LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 


Class 


J^. 


^i^^-^^i/^^^/ ^yj/f€^^'r  '^AA^ v/  '^^i'/ 1/^  y^////^ 


■y?t^j^  ,<^4<? 


^I'TAe^Z^'^?^^  ^?<3ife?  . 


TONY    BUTLER 


BY 


CHAKLES    LEYER. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  E.  J.  WHEELER. 


BOSTON: 

LITTLE,   BROWX,  AND   COMPANY. 

1904. 


Copyright,  1895, 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 


Hmbersitg  ^rrss: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 


/ 


CONTENTS. 


Chjlpteb  Pagb 

I.  The  Cottage  beside  "The  Causeway".    .    .  1 

n.  A   CoUNTRY-HoUSE   IN  IRELAND 17 

UI.  A  VERY  "Fine  Gentleman" 25 

IV.  Some  New  Arrivals 34 

V.  In  London 43 

"VT.  Dolly  Stewart 54 

VII.  Lyle  Abbey  and  its  Guests 62 

VIII.  Some  Explanations 74 

IX.  Maitland's  Friend 83 

X.  A  Blunder 88 

XI.  Explanations 103 

XII.  Maitland's  Visit 112 

XIII.  Tony  in  Town 120 

XIV.  A  Dinner  at  Richmond 128 

XV.  A  Strange  Meeting  and  Parting      ....  137 

XVI.  At  the  Abbey 152 

XVII.  At  the  Cottage 157 

XVIII.  On  the  Road 169 

XIX.  Tony's  Troubles 180 

XX.  The  Minister's  Visit 189 

XXI.  A  Comfortable  Country-House 196 

XXII.  The  Dinner  at  Tilney 206 

XXIII.  The  First  Night  at  Tilney 211 

XXIV.  A  Starlit  Night  in  a  Garden 222 


193079 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


Chapteb  Paab 

XXV.    Jealous  Trials 230 

XXVI.     Beside  the  Hearth 236 

XXVII.     An  Unwelcome  Letter 246 

XXVIII.     At  the  Manse 253 

XXIX.     Departures 262 

XXX.     Conspirators 274 

XXXI.     Two  Friends 292 

XXXII.    On  the  Rocks 303 

XXXIII.  A  Morning  Call  at  Tilney      ,     ....  311 

XXXIV.  Tony  asks  Counsel 324 

XXXV.  Sir   Arthur   on  Life   and   the  World  in 

General 332 

XXXVI.     A  Corner  in  Downing  Street 345 

XXXVII.     Mr.  Butler  for  Duty  on 356 

XXXVIIL    Tony  waiting  for  Orders 363 

XXXIX.     The  Major's  Mission 370 

XL.     The  Major's  Trials 380 

XLI.     Eavesdropping 386 

XLII.     Mark  Lyle's  Letter 392 

XLIII.     The  Major  at  Baden 399 

XLIV.  The  Messenger's  First  Journey  ....  406 

XLV.     A  Shock  for  Tony 416 

XLVL     "The  Bag  No.  18" 428 

XLVn.     Adrift 437 

XLVIIL     "  In  Rags  " 442 

XLIX.     Met  and  Parted 449 

L.     The  Soldier  of  Misfortune 456, 

LI.     A  Piece  of  Good  Tidings 463 

LII.     On  the  Chiaja  at  Night 467 

LIII.     Unpleasant  Reckonings 474 

LIV.     Skeff  Damer  Tested 485 

LV.     Amongst  the  Garibaldians 491 

LVI.     The  Hospital  at  Cava 501 


CONTENTS.  Vli 

Chapteb  Page 

LVII.     At  Toxy's  Bedside 507 

LVIII.     The  Sixth  of  September 514 

LIX.     An  Awkward  Moment 522 

LX.     A  Deck  Walk 628 

LXI.     Tony  at  Home  again 536 

LXII.     Skeff  Damer's  Last  "  Private  and  Confiden- 
tial "      543 

LXIII.     At  the  Cottage  beside  "  The  Causeway  "     .  552 

LXIV.    The  End 559 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

DRAWN    BY    E.  J.  WHEELER. 

Page 
"  The  distinguished  Major  appeared  in  full  evening 

DRESS  " Frontispiece 

"'I    don't    SEE    ANY    REASON    FOR    SUCH    AN    INTEREST   IN 

me'" 160 

Beside  the  Hearth 240 

" ' Sit  down  on  this  bank '" 452 


TONY    BUTLER, 


CHAPTER   I. 


In  a  little  cleft,  not  deep  enough  to  be  a  gorge,  between  two 
grassy  hills,  traversed  by  a  clear  stream,  too  small  to  be 
called  a  river,  too  wide  to  be  a  rivulet,  stood,  and,  I  be- 
lieve, still  stands,  a  little  cottage,  whose  one  bay-window 
elevates  it  above  the  condition  of  a  laboring-man's,  and 
shows  in  its  spacious  large-paned  proportions  pretensions 
to  taste  as  well  as  station.  From  the  window  a  coast-line 
can  be  seen  to  which  nothing  in  the  kingdom  can  find  the 
equal.  It  takes  in  the  bold  curve  of  shore  from  the  ''  White 
Rocks  "  to  the  Giant's  Causeway,  —  a  sweep  of  coast  broken 
by  jutting  headland  and  promontory,  with  sandy  bays  nest- 
ling between  gigantic  walls  of  pillared  rock,  aud  showing 
beneath  the  green  water  the  tessellated  pavement  of  those 
broken  shafts  which  our  superstition  calls  Titanic.  The 
desolate  rock  and  ruin  of  Duuluce,  the  fairy  bridge  of 
Carrig-a-Rede,  are  visible ;  and  on  a  commonly  clear  day 
Staffa  can  be  seen,  its  outline  only  carrying  out  the  strange 
formation  of  the  columnar  rocks  close  at  hand. 

This  cottage,  humble  enough  in  itself,  is  not  relieved  in 
its  aspect  by  the  culture  around  it.  A  small  vegetable 
garden,  rudely  fenced  with  a  dry-stone  wall,  is  the  only 
piece  of  vegetation ;  for  the  cutting  winds  of  the  North  Sea 
are  unfriendly  to  trees,  and  the  light  sandy  soil  of  the  hills 
only  favors  the  fern  and  the  foxglove.  Of  these,  indeed, 
the  growth  is   luxuriant,   and   the  path*  which  leads  down 

1 


Z  TONY  BUTLER. 

from  the  high-road  to  the  cottage  is  cut  through  what  might 
be  called  a  grove  of  these  leafy  greeneries.  This  same  path 
was  not  much  traversed,  and  more  than  once  within  the 
year  was  the  billhook  required  to  keep  it  open,  so  little 
intercourse  was  maintained  between  the  cottage  and  the 
world,  whose  frontier  lay  about  a  mile  off.  A  widow  and 
her  son,  with  one  servant,  were  the  occupants.  It  had  been 
a  fishing-lodge  of  her  husband's  in  more  prosperous  days. 
His  memory  and  the  cheapness  of  life  in  the  neighborhood 
had  decided  her  in  choosing  it,  lonely  and  secluded  as  it 
was ;  and  here  she  had  passed  fourteen  years,  her  whole 
care  being  the  education  of  her  bo}^  a  task  to  which  she 
addressed  herself  with  all  the  zeal  and  devotion  of  her 
nature.  There  was,  it  is  true,  a  village  school  at  Ballin- 
tray,  about  three  miles  off,  to  which  he  went  in  summer ; 
but  when  the  dark  short  days  of  winter  set  in  with  swoop- 
ing storms  of  rain  and  wind,  she  held  him,  so  far  as  she 
could,  close  prisoner,  and  pored  with  him  over  tasks  to  the 
full  as  difficult  to  herself  as  to  him.  So  far  as  a  fine,  open- 
hearted,  generous  disposition,  truthful  and  straightforward, 
could  make  him,  he  repaid  all  the  love  and  affection  she 
could  bear  him.  He  was  well-grown,  good-looking,  and 
brave.  There  was  scarcely  an  exercise  of  which  he  was 
not  master ;  and  whether  in  the  saddle  over  a  stiff  country, 
or  on  the  thwart  of  a  boat  in  a  storm}^  sea,  Tony  Butler 
could  hold  his  own  against  all  competitors.  The  leap  of 
twenty  feet  four  inches  he  had  made  on  the  level  sward 
was  one  of  the  show  objects  of  the  village,  and  the  place 
where  he  had  pitched  a  fourteen-pound  sledge  to  the  top 
of  a  cliff  was  marked  by  a  stone  with  a  rude  attempt  at 
an  inscription.  Fortunate  was  he  if  these  were  enough  for 
glor}^  for  his  gifts  scarcely  rose  to  higher  things.  He  was 
not  clever,  nor  was  he  very  teachable ;  his  apprehension 
was  not  quick,  and  his  memory  was  bad.  The  same  scatter- 
brained forgetfulness  that  he  had  in  little  things  attended 
him  in  more  serious  ones.  Whenever  his  intellect  was 
called  on  for  a  great  effort  he  was  sure  to  be  vanquished, 
and  he  would  sit  for  hours  before  an  open  book  as  hopeless 
of  mastering  it  as  though  the  volume  were  close-clasped 
and  locked  before  him.     Dull  men  are  not  generally  alive 


THE   COTTAGE  BESIDE   "THE   CAUSEWAY."  3 

to  their  own  dulness ;  but  Tony  was,  —  he  saw  and  felt  it 
very  bitterly.  He  thought,  it  is  true,  that  there  ought  to 
be  a  way  to  his  intellect,  if  it  could  only  be  discovered, 
but  he  owned  to  himself  he  had  not  found  it;  and,  with 
some  lingering  hope  of  it,  he  would  carry  his  books  to 
his  room  and  sit  down  to  them  with  a  resolute  heart,  and 
ponder  and  puzzle  and  wonder,  till  he  either  fell  asleep  over 
the  pages,  or  felt  the  scalding  tears  blinding  him  with  the 
conscious  thought  that  he  was  not  equal  to  the  task  be- 
fore  him. 

Strange  enough,  his  mother,  cheated  by  that  love  which 
filled  every  avenue  of  her  heart,  marked  little  of  this.  She 
thought  that  Tony  had  no  great  taste  for  music,  nor  patience 
enough  for  draAving.  She  fancied  he  deemed  history  dry,  and 
rather  undervalued  geography.  If  he  hated  French,  it  was 
because  he  was  such  an  intense  Anglican ;  and  as  to  figures, 
his  poor  dear  father  had  no  great  skill  in  them,  and  indeed 
his  ruined  fortune  came  of  tampering  with  them.  Though 
thus,  item  by  item,  she  would  have  been  reduced  to  own  that 
Tony  was  not  much  of  a  scholar,  she  would  unhesitatingly 
have  declared  that  he  was  a  remarkably  gifted  boy,  and 
equal  to  any  condition  he  could  be  called  to  fulfil.  There 
was  this  much  of  excuse  for  her  credulity,  —  he  was  a 
universal  favorite.  There  was  not  a  person  of  any  class 
who  had  other  than  a  good  word  for  him ;  and  this,  be  it  re- 
marked, in  a  country  where  people  fall  into  few  raptures, 
and  are  rarely  enthusiasts.  The  North  of  Ireland  is  indeed 
as  cold  a  soil  for  the  affections  as  it  is  ungenial  in  its  vegeta- 
tion. Love  finds  it  just  as  hard  to  thrive  as  the  j^oung  larch- 
trees,  nipped  as  they  are  by  cutting  winds  and  sleety  storms  ; 
and  to  have  won  favor  where  it  is  weighed  out  so  scrupu- 
lously, implied  no  petty  desert.  There  is,  however,  a  rigid 
sense  of  justice  which  never  denies  to  accord  its  due  to 
each.  Tony  had  gained  his  reputation  by  an  honest  verdict, 
the  award  of  a  jury  who  had  seen  him  from  his  childhood 
and  knew  him  well. 

The  great  house  of  the  county  was  Sir  Arthur  Lode's,  and 
there  Tony  Butler  almost  might  be  said  to  live.  His  word 
was  law  in  the  stables,  the  kennel,  the  plantations,  and  the 
boat-quay.     All  liked  him.     Sir  Arthur,  a  stern  but  hearty 


4  TONY  BUTLER. 

old  Anglo-Indian ;  my  lady,  a  fine  specimen  of  town  pre- 
tension and  exclusiveness  cultivated  to  its  last  perfection  by 
Oriental  indulgence ;  Isabella,  —  a  beauty  and  a  fortune,  — 
about  to  shine  at  the  next  drawing-room,  liked  him ;  and  the 
widowed  daughter  of  the  house,  Mrs.  Trafford,  whom  many 
deemed  handsomer  than  her  sister,  and  whose  tact  and 
worldly  skill  made  even  beauty  but  one  of  her  attractions, 
said  he  was  "  a  fine  creature,"  and  "  it  was  a  thousand 
pities  he  had  not  a  good  estate  and  a  title."  Sir  Arthur's 
sons,  three  in  number,  were  all  in  India ;  the  two  elder  in 
high  civil  appointments,  the  younger  serving  in  a  regiment 
of  hussars.  Their  sisters,  however,  constantly  assured  Tony 
that  George,  Henry,  and  Mark  would  be  so  fond  of  him, 
especially  Mark,  who  was  the  soldier,  and  who  would  be 
charmed  to  meet  with  one  so  fond  of  all  his  own  pursuits. 

It  was  with  sincere  pride  Mrs.  Butler  saw  her  son  in  such 
favor  at  the  great  house,  —  that  princely  place  to  which  the 
company  came  from  remote  parts  of  the  kingdom,  and  to 
mix  with  which  the  neighboring  gentry  were  only  admitted 
sparingl}^  and  at  rare  intervals ;  for  Sir  Arthur's  wealth  was 
to  society  a  sort  of  crushing  power,  a  kind  of  social  Nasmyth 
hammer,  that  smashed  and  ground  down  whatever  came 
beneath  it.  No  small  distinction  was  it,  therefore,  for  the 
widow's  son  to  be  there ;  not  merely  admitted  and  on 
sufferance,  but  encouraged,  liked,  and  made  much  of.  Sir 
Arthur  had  known  Tony's  father  in  India,  long  long  years 
ago ;  indeed,  it  was  when  Sir  Arthur  was  a  very  small  civil 
servant,  and  Captain  Butler  was  a  gorgeous  aide-de-camp  on 
the  Governor-General's  staff ;  and  strange  it  was,  the  re- 
spect with  which  the  brilliant  soldier  then  inspired  him  had 
survived  through  all  the  changes  and  advancements  of  a 
successful  life,  and  the  likeness  the  youth  bore  to  his  father 
assisted  to  strengthen  this  sentiment.  He  would  have 
noticed  the  widow,  too,  if  she  had  been  disposed  to  accept 
his  attentions ;  but  she  refused  all  invitations  to  leave  her 
home,  and  save  at  the  little  meeting-house  on  a  Sunday, 
where  her  friend  Dr.  Stewart  held  forth,  was  never  seen 
beyond  the  paling  of  her  garden. 

What  career  Tony  was  to  follow,  what  he  was  to  do,  was 
an  oft-debated  question  between  her  and  Dr.  Stewart,  her 


THE   COTTAGE  BESIDE   "THE   CAUSE V7AY."  5 

worthy  adviser  in  spirituals;  and  though  it  was  the  ever- 
recurring  subject  as  they  sat  of  an  evening  in  the  porch,  the 
solution  seemed  just  as  remote  as  ever,  —  Mrs.  Butler  aver- 
ring that  there  was  nothing  that  with  a  little  practice  he 
could  n't  do,  and  the  minister  sighingly  protesting  that  tlie 
world  was  very  full  just  now,  and  there  was  just  barely 
enough  for  those  who  were  in  it. 

"What  does  he  incline  to  himself,  madam?"  asked  the 
worthy  man,  as  he  saw  that  his  speech  had  rather  a  discour- 
aging effect. 

''He'd  like  to  follow  his  father's  career,  and  be  a 
soldier." 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  sighed  out  the  minister;  "  a  man  must  be  rich 
enough  to  do  without  a  livelihood  that  takes  to  that  one. 
What  would  you  say  to  the  sea?" 

"He's  too  old  for  the  navy.  Tony  will  be  twenty  in 
August." 

The  minister  would  have  liked  to  hint  that  other  ships 
went  down  into  the  "great  waters"  as  well  as  those  that 
carried  her  Majesty's  bunting,  but  he  was  faint-hearted  and 
silent. 

"  I  take  it,"  said  he,  after  a  pause,  "  that  he  has  no  great 
mind  for  the  learned  professions,  as  they  call  them  ?  " 

"No  inclination  whatever,  and  I  cannot  say  I'm  sorry  for 
it.  My  poor  boy  would  be  lost  in  that  great  ocean  of  world - 
liness  and  self-seeking.  I  don't  mean  if  he  were  to  go  into 
the  Church,"  said  she,  blushing  crimson  at  the  awkwardness 
of  her  speech,  "  but  you  know  he  has  no  vocation  for  holy 
orders,  and  such  a  choice  would  be  therefore  impossible." 

"  I'm  thinking  it  would  not  be  his  line,  neither,"  said  the 
old  man,  dryly.  "What  o' the  mercantile  pursuits?  You 
shake  your  head.     Well,  there's  farming?" 

"Farming,  my  dear  Dr.  Stewart, — farming  means  at 
least  some  thousand  pounds'  capital,  backed  by  consider- 
able experience,  and,  I  fear  me,  my  poor  Tony  is  about 
as  wanting  in  one  as  in  the  other." 

"Well,  ma'am,  if  tlie  lad  can  neither  be  a  soldier,  nor  a 
sailor,  nor  a  merchant,  nor  a  farmer,  nor  will  be  a  lawyer,  a 
doctor,  or  a  preacher  o'  the  Word,  I  'm  sore  pushed  to  say 
what  there  's  open  to  him,  except  some  light  business  in  the 


6  TONY  BUTLER. 

way  of  a  shop,  or  an  agency  like,  which  maybe  you  'd  think 
beneath  you." 

"I'm  certain  my  son  would,  sir;  and  no  great  shame 
either  that  Colonel  Walter  Butler's  son  should  think  so, 
—  a  C.  B.  and  a  Guelph  of  Hanover,  though  he  never 
wore  the  decoration.  It  is  not  so  easy  for  us  to  forget 
these  things  as  it  is  for  our   friends." 

This  was  rather  cruel,  particularly  to  one  who  had  been 
doing  his  best  to  pilot  himself  through  the  crooked  chan- 
nels of  difficulties,  and  was  just  beginning  to  hope  he  was 
in  deep  water. 

"  Would  n't  the  Colonel's  friends  be  likely  to  give  him  a 
helping  hand  ? "  said  the  minister,  timidly,  and  like  one 
not  quite  sure  of  his  ground. 

"  I  have  not  asked  them,  nor  is  it  likely  that  I  will,"  said 
she,  sternly ;  then,  seeing  in  the  old  man's  face  the  dismay 
and  discouragement  her  speech  had  produced,  she  added, 
"  My  husband's  only  brother.  Sir  Omerod  Butler,  was  not 
on  speaking  terms  with  him  for  years, — indeed,  from  the 
time  of  our  marriage.  Eleanor  Mackay,  the  Presbyterian 
minister's  daughter,  was  thought  a  mesalliance ;  and  maybe 
it  was,  —  1  won't  deny  it,  doctor.  It  was  deemed  a  great 
rise  in  the  world  to  me,  though  I  never  felt  it  exactly  in 
that  way  myself.  It  was  my  pride  to  think  my  husband 
a  far  greater  man  than  any  of  his  famil}-,  and  it  was  his 
to  say  I  had  helped  him  to  become  so." 

"I've  heard  o'  that  too,"  was  the  cautious  rejoinder  of 
the  old  minister. 

The  memories  thus  suddenly  brought  up  were  too  much 
for  the  poor  widow's  composure,  and  she  had  to  turn  away 
and  wipe  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  "Yes,  sir,"  said  she 
at  last,  "my  noble-hearted  husband  was  made  to  feel 
through  his  whole  life  the  scorn  of  those  who  would  not 
know  his  wife,  and  it  is  not  from  such  as  these  m}'  poor 
boy  is  to  crave  assistance.  As  for  Tony  himself,"  said 
she,  with  more  energy  of  voice  and  manner,  "he'd  never 
forgive  me  if  I  took  such  a  step." 

The  good  minister  would  fain  have  rebuked  the  indulgence 
of  sentiments  like  these,  which  had  little  of  forgiveness  in 
their  nature.     He  felt  sorely  tempted  to  make  the  occasion 


THE  COTTAGE  BESIDE  "THE  CAUSEWAY."     7 

profitable  by  a  word  in  season  ;  but  bis  sagacity  tempered  bis 
zeal,  and  be  simply  said,  "Let  bj^ganes  be  byganes,  Mrs. 
Butler,  or,  at  all  events,  let  tbem  not  come  back  like  troubled 
spirits  to  disturb  tbe  future." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,  doctor,"  said  sbe,  calmly,  "  and,  to  do 
so,  I  will  talk  of  something  else.  Can  you  tell  me  if  there  is 
a  Mr.  Elphinstone  in  the  Ministry  now,  —  in  the  Cabinet,  I 
mean,"  said  she,  correcting  herself,  for  she  remembered  w^hat 
the  word  signifies  to  Presbyterian  ears. 

"  There  is  a  Sir  Harry  Elphinstone,  Secretary  of  State  for 
the  Colonies,  ma'am." 

"  That  must  be  the  same,  then  ;  my  husband  always  called 
him  Harry ;  they  were  like  brothers  at  the  Cape  long,  long 
ago.     Could  n't  he  do  something  for  Tony,  think  you?  " 

"  The  very  man  who  could  ;  and  maybe,  too,  in  the  very 
sort  of  career  w^ould  suit  the  lad  best  of  all.  He  's  strong 
of  limb  and  stout  of  heart,  and  has  brave  health,  —  he 's 
just  the  man  to  meet  the  life  and  enjoy  the  very  accidents 
of  a  new  world." 

"  If  he  could  leave  me,  — that  is,  if  I  could  bear  to  part 
with  lum^  doctor,"  said  she,  with  a  thick  utterance. 

''These  are  not  da3's,  my  dear  madam,  when  a  mother  can 
tie  a  son  to  her  apron.  The  young  birds  will  leave  the  nest, 
make  it  ever  so  w^arm  and  snug  for  them ;  and  it  was  a  wise 
Providence  that  so  decreed  it." 

"  Would  there  be  any  impropriety  in  my  writing  to  Mr.  — 
Sir  Harry  Elphinstone?"  asked  she. 

"  I  can  see  none  whatever.  It  is  more  than  likely  that 
he  '11  thank  you  heartily  for  the  chance  of  serving  his  old 
friend's  son.  Such  a  great  man  gives  away  every  day 
more  places  than  would  provide  for  three  generations  of 
either  of  us ;  and  it  must  be  a  rare  pleasure  when  he  can 
serve  the  Queen  and  gladden  his  own  heart  together." 

"  You  'd  maybe  help  me  with  the  letter,  doctor,"  asked  she, 
half  diffidently. 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,  Mrs.  Butler;  my  poor  aid  is  quite  at 
your  service  :  but  had  n't  we  best,  first  of  all,  speir  a  bit,  and 
see  what  the  lad  thinks  of  it?  Let  us  find  out  that  it 's  the 
life  he  'd  take  to  willingly.  It 's  no  by  way  of  reproach  to  him 
I  say  it ;  but  we  all  know  that  when  a  young  fellow  gets  accus- 


8  TONY  BUTLER. 

tomed  to  ride  a  blood  horse  with  a  groom  after  him,  and  eat 
his  soup  with  a  damask  napkin  over  his  knees,  it 's  a  sore 
change  to  mount  a  mustang  and  digest  raw  buffalo." 

"If  you  mean  by  that,  Dr.  Stewart,  that  Tony  has  been 
spoiled  by  a  life  of  luxury  and  indolence,  you  do  him  great 
wrong.  The  poor  dear  boy  is  half  heart-broken  at  times  at 
his  purposeless,  unprofitable  existence.  There  are  days  he 
is  so  overcome  that  he  can  scarcely  lift  up  his  head  for  it. 
This  very  morning  was  one  of  them ;  and  it  was  only  when 
Sir  Arthur  sent  over  a  third  time  to  say,  '  You  must  come ; 
L'll  take  no  excuse,'  that  I  could  persuade  him  to  set  off. 
They  are  expecting  young  Captain  Lyle  to-day,  and  making 
all  sorts  of  festive  preparations  to  receive  him.  Tony  has 
charge  of  the  fireworks;  and  as  Sir  Arthur  says,  '  If  you 
leave  your  chemicals  to  other  hands,  the*  chances  are  we 
shall  all  be  blown  up  together. '  " 

"I  remember  the  Captain  when  he  was  just  so  high," 
said  the  doctor,  holding  his  hand  about  three  feet  from  the 
ground, — "he  used  to  come  to  me  every  Saturday  for  a 
lesson  in  Scripture ;  smart  enough  he  was,  but  a  proud  sort 
of  boy,  that  kept  his  class-fellows  at  a  distance,  and  when 
the  lesson  was  over  would  not  speak  to  one  of  them.  He 
was  the  baronet's  son,  and  they  were  the  sons  of  his  father's 
tradespeople.  I  remember  I  made  a  complaint  against 
him  once,  I  forget  for  what,  but  he  never  came  to  my  house 
after. " 

Mrs.  Butler  seemed  not  to  follow  the  doctor's  speech; 
indeed,  her  whole  heart  was  so  set  on  one  object  and  one 
theme  that  it  was  only  by  an  effort  she  could  address  herself 
to  any  other.  The  humblest  piece  in  which  Tony  played 
was  a  drama  full  of  interest.  Without  him  the  stage  had 
no  attraction,  and  she  cared  not  who  were  the  performers. 
The  doctor,  therefore,  was  some  time  before  he  perceived 
that  his  edifying  reflections  on  the  sins  of  pride  and  self- 
conceit  were  unheeded.  Long  experience  had  taught  him 
tolerance  in  such  matters ;  he  had  known  even  elders  to  nod ; 
and  so  he  took  his  hat  and  said  farewell  with  a  good  grace, 
and  a  promise  to  help  her  with  a  letter  to  the  Secretary  of 
State  whenever  the  time  came  to  write  it. 

Late  on  the  night  of  that  day  in  which  this  conversation 


THE   COTTAGE  BESIDE   "THE   CAUSEWAY."  9 

occurred,  Mrs.  Butler  sat  at  her  writing-desk,  essaying  for 
the  tenth  time  how  to  address  that  great  man  whose  favor 
she  would  propitiate.  Letter-writing  had  never  been  her 
gift,  and  she  distrusted  her  powers  even  unfairl}'  in  this 
respect.  The  present  was,  besides,  a  case  of  some  difficulty. 
She  knew  nothing  of  the  sort  of  person  she  was  addressing 
beyond  the  fact  that  he  and  her  husband,  when  very  young 
men,  lived  on  terms  of  close  intimacy  and  friendship. 
It  might  be  that  the  great  Minister  had  forgotten  all  about 
that  long  ago,  or  might  not  care  to  be  reminded  of  it.  It 
might  be  that  her  husband  in  his  sanguine  and  warm-hearted 
way,  calculated  rather  on  the  affection  he  bestowed  than 
that  he  should  receive,  and  so  deemed  the  friendship  between 
them  a  closer  and  stronger  tie  than  it  was.  It  might  be, 
too,  —  she  had  heard  of  such  things,  —  that  men  in  power 
are  so  besieged  by  those  who  assume  to  have  claims  upon 
them,  that  they  lose  temper  and  patience,  and  indiscrimi- 
nately class  all  such  applicants  as  mere  huugiy  place- 
hunters,  presuming  upon  some  accidental  meeting,  —  some 
hap-hazard  acquaintance  of  a  few  minutes.  "And  so," 
said  she,  "if  he  has  not  heard  of  my  husband  for  thirty-odd 
years,  he  may  come  to  look  coldly  on  this  letter  of  mine,  and 
even  ask,  '  Who  is  Eleanor  Butler,  and  of  whom  is  she  the 
widow?'  I  will  simply  say  to  him:  The  son  of  the  late 
Colonel  Walter  Butler,  with  whose  name  his  widow  believes 
you  are  not  unacquainted,  solicits  some  assistance  on  your 
part,  towards  —  towards  —  shall  I  say  at  once  an  appoint- 
ment in  one  of  our  colonies,  or  merely  what  ma 3^  forward 
his  pursuits  in  a  new  world  ?  I  wish  I  could  hit  upon  some- 
thing that  will  not  sound  like  the  every-day  tune  that  must 
ring  in  his  ears;  but  how  can  I,  when  what  I  seek  is  the 
selfsame  thing?  " 

She  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand  in  thought,  and,  as  she 
pondered,  it  occurred  to  her  what  her  husband  would  have 
thought  of  such  a  step  as  she  was  taking.  Would  AYalter 
have  sanctioned  it?  He  was  a  proud  man  on  such  points. 
He  had  never  asked  for  anything  in  his  life,  and  it  was  one 
of  his  sayings,  —  "There  was  no  station  that  was  not  too 
dearly  bought  at  the  price  of  asking  for  it."  She  canvassed 
and  debated   the  question  with  herself,  balancing  all  that 


10  TONY  BUTLER. 

she  owed  to  her  husband's  memory  against  all  that  she 
ought  to  attempt  for  her  boy's  welfare.  It  was  a  matter  of 
no  easy  solution ;  but  an  accident  decided  for  her  what  all 
her  reasoning  failed  in;  for,  as  she  sat  thinking,  a  hurried 
step  was  heard  on  the  gravel,  and  then  the  well-known  sound 
of  Tony's  latch-key  followed,  and  he  entered  the  room, 
flushed  and  heated.  He  was  still  in  dinner-dress,  but  his 
cravat  was  partly  awry,  and  his  look  excited  and  angry. 

''Why,  my  dear  Tony,"  said  she,  rising,  and  parting  his 
hair  tenderly  on  his  forehead,  "I  didn't  look  for  you  here 
to-night;  how  came  it  that  you  left  the  Abbey  at  this 
hour  ? '' 

"Wasn't  it  a  very  good  hour  to  come  home?"  answered 
he,  curtly.  "We  dined  at  eight;  I  left  at  half-past  eleven. 
Nothing  very  unusual  in  all  that." 

"But  you  always  slept  there;  you  had  that  nice  room  you 
told  me  of." 

"Well,  I  preferred  coming  home.  I  suppose  that  was 
reason  enough." 

"What  has  happened,  Tony  darling?  Tell  me  frankly 
and  fearlessly  what  it  is  that  has  ruffled  you.  Who  has  such 
a  right  to  know  it,  or,  if  need  be,  to  sympathize  with  you, 
as  your  own  dear  mother  ?  " 

"How  you  run  on,  mother,  and  all  about  nothing!  I 
dine  out,  and  I  come  back  a  little  earlier  than  my  wont,  and 
immediately  you  find  out  that  some  one  has  outraged  or 
insulted  me." 

"Oh,  no,  no.  I  never  dreamed  of  that,  my  dear  boy!  " 
said  she,  coloring  deeply. 

"Well,  there  's  enough  about  it,"  said  he,  pacing  the  room 
with  hasty  strides.  "What  is  that  you  were  saying  the 
other  day  about  a  Mr.  Elphinstone,  —  that  he  was  an  old 
friend  of  my  father's,  and  that  they  had  chummed  together 
long  ago?" 

"All  these  scrawls  that  you  see  there,"  said  she,  pointing 
to  the  table,  "have  been  attempts  to  write  to  him,  Tony.  I 
was  trying  to  ask  him  to  give  you  some  sort  of  place 
somewhere." 

"The  very  thing  I  want,  mother,"  said  he,  with  a  half- 
bitter  laugh,  — "some  sort  of  place  somewhere." 


THE   COTTAGE  BESIDE   "THE   CAUSEWAY."  11 

"And,"  contiDuecl  she,  "I  was  pondering  whether  it  might 
not  be  as  well  to  see  if  Sir  Arthur  Lyle  would  n't  write  to 
some  of  his  friends  in  power  —  " 

"Why  should  we  ask  him?  What  has  he  to  do  with  it? " 
broke  he  in,  hastily.  "I'm  not  the  son  of  an  old  steward 
or  family  coachman,  that  I  want  to  go  about  with  a  black 
pocket-book  stuffed  with  recommendatory  letters.  Write 
simpl}'  and  fearlessly  to  this  great  man,  — I  don't  know  his 
rank,  —  and  say  whose  son  I  am.  Leave  me  to  tell  him  the 
rest." 

"My  dear  Tony,  you  little  know  how  such  people  are  over- 
whelmed with  such-like  applications,  and  what  slight  chance 
there  is  that  you  will  be  distinguished  from  the  rest." 

"At  all  events,  I  shall  not  have  the  humiliation  of  a 
patron.  If  he  will  do  anything  for  me,  it  will  be  for  the 
sake  of  my  father's  memory,  and  I  need  not  be  ashamed  of 
that." 

"What  shall  I  write,  then?  "     And  she  took  up  her  pen. 

"Sir  —  I  suppose  he  is  '  Sir; '  or  is  he  '  My  Lord  '  ?  " 

"No.     His  name  is  Sir  Harry  Elphiustone." 

"  Sir,  —  The  youns;  man  who  bears  this  note  is  the  only  son  of 
the  late  Colonel  Walter  Butler,  C.B.  He  has  no  fortune,  no  pro- 
fession, no  friends,  and  very  little  ability.  Can  you  place  him  in 
any  position  where  he  may  acquire  some  of  the  three  first  and  can 
dispense  with  the  last? 

"  Your  humble  servant, 

"  Eleanor  Butler." 

"Oh,  Tony!  you  don't  think  we  could  send  such  a  letter 
as  this?"  said  she,  with  a  half-sad  smile. 

"I  am  certain  I  could  deliver  it,  mother,"  said  he, 
gravely,  "and  I  'm  sure  that  it  would  answer  its  purpose 
just  as  well  as  a  more  finished  composition." 

"Let  me  at  least  make  a  good  copy  of  it,"  said  she,  as  he 
folded  it  up  and  placed  it  in  an  envelope. 

"No,  no,"  said  he;  "just  write  his  name,  and  all  the  fine 
things  that  he  is  sure  to  be,  before  and  after  it,  and,  as  I 
said  before,  leave  the  issue  to  me." 

"And  when  would  you  think  of  going,  Tony?" 

''To-morrow  morning,  by  the  steamer  that  will  pass  this 


12  TOXY  BUTLER. 

on  the  way  to  Liverpool.  I  know  the  Captain,  and  he  will 
give  me  a  passage;  he  's  always  teasing  me  to  take  a  trip 
with  him." 

"To-morrow!  but  how  could  you  get  ready  by  to-morrow? 
I  '11  have  to  look  over  all  your  clothes,  Tony." 

"My  dear  little  mother,"  said  he,  passing  his  arm  round 
her,  and  kissing  her  affectionately,  "how  easy  it  is  to  hold 
a  review  where  there  's  only  a  corporal's  guard  for  inspec- 
tion !  All  my  etticient  movables  will  fit  into  a  very  small 
portmanteau,  and  1  '11  pack  it  in  less  than  ten  minutes." 

"I  see  no  necessity  for  all  this  haste,  particularly  where 
we  have  so  much  to  consider  and  talk  over.  We  ought  to 
consult  the  doctor,  too;  he's  a  warm  friend,  Tony,  and 
bears  you  a  sincere  affection." 

"He's  a  good  fellow;  J  like  him  anywhere  but  in  the 
pulpit,"  muttered  he,  below  his  breath.  "And  he  'd  like  to 
write  to  his  daughter ;  she  's  a  governess  in  some  family  near 
Putney,  1  think.  I  '11  go  and  see  her;  Dolly  and  I  are  old 
playfellows.  I  don't  know,"  added  he,  with  a  laugh, 
"whether  hockey  and  football  are  part  of  a  polite  female 
education ;  but  if  they  be,  the  pupils  that  have  got  Dolly 
Stewart  for  their  governess  are  in  rare  luck." 

"But  why  must  there  be  all  this  hun-y?" 

"Because  it 's  a  whim  of  mine,  dear  little  mother.  Be- 
cause —  but  don't  ask  me  for  reasons,  aftei  having  spoiled 
me  for  twenty  years,  and  given  me  my  own  way  in  every- 
thing. I  've  got  it  into  m}^  wise  head  —  and  you  know  what 
a  wise  head  it  is  —  that  T  'm  going  to  do  something  very 
brilliant.  You  '11  puzzle  me  awfully  if  you  ask  me  where  or 
how;  so  just  be  generous  and  don't  push  me  to  the  wall." 

"At  all  events,  you  '11  not  go  without  seeing  the  doctor?  " 

"That  I  will.  I  have  some  experience  of  him  as  a  ques- 
tioner in  the  Scripture-school  of  a  Saturday,  and  I  '11  not 
stand  a  cross-examination  in  profane  matters  from  so 
skilled  a  hand.  Tell  him  from  me  that  I  had  one  of  my 
flight}"  fits  on  me,  and  that  J  knew  I  'd  make  such  a  sorry 
defence  if  we  were  to  meet,  that,  in  the  words  of  his  own 
song,  '  1  ran  awa'  in  the  morning.'  " 

She  shook  her  head  in  silence,  and  seemed  far  from 
satisfied. 


THE   COTTAGE  BESIDE   "THE  CAUSEWAY."  13 

"TeU  him,  however,  that  I  '11  go  and  see  Dolly  the  fii'st 
day  I  'm  free,  and  bring  him  back  a  full  account  of  her,  how 
she  looks,  and  what  she  says  of  herself." 

The  thought  of  his  return  flashed  across  the  poor  mother's 
heart  like  sunshine  over  a  landscape,  spreading  light  and 
gladness  everywhere.  ''And  when  will  that  be,  Tony?" 
cried  she,  looking  up  into  his  eyes. 

"Let  me  see.     To-morrow  will  be  Wednesday.'* 

"No,  Tony,  —Thursday." 

"To  be  sure,  Thursday, — Thursday,  the  ninth;  Friday, 
Liverpool ;  Saturday,  London !  Sunday  will  do  for  a  visit 
to  Dolly;  I  suppose  there  will  be  no  impropriety  in  calling 
on  her  of  a  Sunday?  " 

"The  M'Gruders  are  a  Scotch  family;  I  don't  know  if 
they  'd  like  it." 

"That  shall  be  thought  of.  Let  me  see;  Monday  for  the 
great  man,  Tuesday  and  Wednesday  to  see  a  little  bit  of 
London,  and  back  here  by  the  end  of  the  week." 

"Oh!  if  I  thought  that,  Tony  —  " 

"Well,  do  think  it;  believe  it,  rely  upon  it.  If  you  like, 
I  '11  give  up  the  Tuesday  and  Wednesday,  though  I  have 
some  very  gorgeous  speculations  about  Westminster  Abbey 
and  the  Tower,  and  the  monkeys  in  the  Zoological  Gardens, 
with  the  pantomime  for  a  finish  in  the  evening.  But  you  've 
only  to  say  the  word,  and  I  '11  start  half  an  hour  after  I  see 
the  Don  in  Downing  Street." 

"No,  of  course  not,  darling.  I'm  not  so  selfish  as  that; 
and  if  you  find  that  London  amuses  you  and  is  not  too 
expensive,  —  for  you  know,  Tony,  what  a  slender  purse  we 
have,  — stay  a  week,  — two  weeks,  Tony,  if  you  like  it." 

"AYhat  a  good  little  woman  it  is!  "  said  he,  pressing  her 
towards  him;  and  the  big  tears  trembled  in  his  eyes  and 
rolled  heavily  along  his  cheeks.  "Now  for  the  ugly  part, 
—  the  money,  I  mean." 

"I  have  eleven  pounds  in  the  house,  Tony,  if  that  will 
do  to  take  with  you." 

"Do,  mother!  Of  course  it  will.  I  don't  mean  to  spend 
near  so  much;  but  how  can  you  spare  such  a  sum?  that's 
the  question." 

"I  just  had  it  by,  Tony,  for  a  rainy  day,  as  they  call  it; 


14  TONY  BUTLER. 

or  I  meant  to  have  made  you  a  smart  present  on  the  fourth 
of  next  mouth,  for  your  birthday.  —  1  forget,  indeed,  what 
I  intended  it  for,"  said  she,  wiping  her  eyes,  "for  this 
sudden  notion  of  yours  has  driven  everything  clean  out  of 
my  head ;  and  all  I  can  think  of  is  if  there  be  buttons  on 
yjur  shirts,  and  how  many  pairs  of  socks  you  have." 

'^'m  sure  everything  is  right;  it  always  is.  And  now 
go  to  bed  like  a  dear  little  woman,  and  1  '11  come  in  and  say 
good-bye  before  1  start  in  the  morning." 

''No,  no,  Tony;  I  '11  be  up  and  make  you  a  cup  of  tea." 

''That  you  shall  not.  What  a  fuss  to  make  of  a  trip  to 
London;  as  if  1  was  going  to  Auckland  or  the  Fijee  Islands? 
l^y  the  way,  mother,  would  n't  you  come  out  to  me  if  the 
♦Treat  man  gave  me  something  very  fine  and  lucrative':'  —  for 
J  can't  persuade  myself  that  he  won't  make  me  a  governor 
somewhere." 

She  could  not  trust  herself  to  speak,  and  merely  clutched 
his  hand  in  both  her  own  and  held  it  fast. 

"There's  another  thing,"  said  he,  after  a  short  struggle 
with  himself;  ''there  may  possibly  be  notes  or  messages  of 
one  sort  or  another  from  Lyle  Abbey;  and  just  hint  that 
I  've  been  obliged  to  leave  home  for  a  day  or  two.  You 
needn't  say  for  where  nor  how  long;  but  that  I  was  called 
away  suddenly,  —  too  hurriedly  to  go  up  and  pay  my  re- 
spects, and  the  rest  of  it.  1  'm  not  quite  sure  you  '11  be 
troubled  in  this  way;  but  if  you  should,  say  what  I  have 
told  you." 

"The  doctor  will  be  sorry  not  to  have  said  good-bye, 
Tony." 

"1  may  be  back  aojain  before  he  need  hear  of  my  having 
gone.  And  now,  good-night,  dear  mother;  I  '11  come  and 
see  5^ou  before  I  start." 

When  Tony  Butler  found  himself  alone  in  his  room,  he 
opened  his  writing-desk  and  prepared  to  write, — a  task, 
for  him,  of  no  common  magnitude  and  of  the  very  rarest 
occurrence.  Wliat  it  exnot(Ml  in  the  way  of  strain  and  effort 
may  be  imagined  from  the  swelling  of  the  veins  in  his  fore- 
head, and  the  crimson  patches  that  formed  on  his  cheeks. 
"What  would  I  give  now,"  muttered  he,  "for  just  ten  min- 
utes of    ready  tact,   to  express  myself  suitably, — to  keep 


THE   COTTAGE  BESIDE   "THE   CAUSEWAY."  15 

down  my  own  temper,  and  at  the  same  time  make  his  boil 
over!  If  I  have  ten  years  of  life  before  me,  I  'd  give  five 
of  them  to  be  able  to  do  this;  but  I  cannot, —  I  cannot!  To 
say  all  that  I  want,  and  not  be  a  braggart  or  something 
worse,  requires  mind  and  judgment  and  tact,  and  twenty 
other  gifts  that  I  have  not  got;  and  I  have  only  to  picture 
him  going  about  with  my  letter  in  his  hand,  showing  it  to 
every  one,  with  a  sneer  at  my  mode  of  expression,  —  pos- 
sibly of  my  spelling !  Here  goes ;  my  very  writing  shames 
me;  — 

"  Sir,  —  The  manner  I  left  your  father's  house  last  night  would 
require  an  apology  [I  wonder  if  there  are  two  p's  in  'apology']  from 
me,  if  I  had  not  a  graver  one  to  ask  from  you.  [He  read  this  over 
fully  a  dozen  times,  varying  the  emphasis,  and  trying  if  tlie  meaning 
it  bore,  or  that  he  meant  it  to  bear,  could  be  changed  by  the  reading. 
*  All  right,'  said  he,  '  no  mistake  there.']  There  is,  however,  so 
much  of  excuse  for  your  conduct  that  you  did  not  know  how  I  was 
treated  by  your  family,  —  regarded  as  a  friend,  and  not  the  Cad  you 
wanted  to  make  me  !  ['  Cad  '  reads  wrong  —  vulgar ;  I  suppose  it  is 
vulgar,  but  it  means  what  I  intend,  and  so  let  it  go.]  I  cannot  male 
a  quarrel  with  your  father's  son.  [I  '11  dash  make,  to  show  that  I 
could  accept  one  of  another's  making.]  But  to  avoid  the  risk,  I 
must  avoid  the  society  where  I  shall  meet  you  [no ;  that 's  not 
right;  'father's  son  '  ought  to  have  Mm  after  it]  —  avoid  the  society 
where  I  shall  meet  him.  From  this  day,  therefore,  I  will  not  return 
to  the  Abbey  without  I  receive  that  reparation  from  you  which  is 
the  right  of 

"Your  faithful  servant, 

"T.  Butler. 

"  I  could  not  write  myself  '  Anthony,'  if  I  got  five  pounds 
for  it." 

Ten  miles  across  a  stiff  country,  straight  as  the  crow  flies, 
would  not  have  "taken  as  much  out"  of  poor  Tony  as  the 
composition  of  this  elegant  epistle;  and  though  he  felt  a 
sincere  satisfaction  at  its  completion,  he  was  not  by  any 
means  satisfied  that  he  had  achieved  a  success.  "No," 
muttered  he,  as  he  sealed  it,  "m}^  pen  will  not  be  my  liveli- 
hood; that's  certain.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  dear  mother's 
sake,  I  would  see  what  a  musket  could  do,  I  'd  enlist,  to  a 
certainty.  It  is  the  best  thing  for  fellows  like  me."  Thus 
musing  and  "mooning,"  he  lay  down,  dressed  as  he  was, 


16  TONY  BUTLER. 

and  fell  asleep.  And  as  he  lay,  there  came  a  noiseless  step 
to  his  door,  and  the  handle  turned,  and  his  mother  drew 
nigh  his  bed,  and  bent  over  him.  "Poor  Tony!  "  muttered 
she,  as  her  tears  gushed  out.  "Poor  Tony!"  what  a  story 
in  two  words  was  there !  —  what  tender  love,  what  compas- 
sionate sorrow!  It  was  the  outburst  of  a  mother's  grief  for 
one  who  was  sure  to  get  the  worst  at  the  hands  of  the  world, 
—  a  cry  of  anguish  for  all  the  sorrows  his  own  warm  heart 
and  guileless  nature  would  expose  him  to,  — the  deceptions, 
the  wrongs,  the  treacheries  that  were  before  him ;  and  yet, 
in  all  the  selfishness  of  her  love,  she  would  not  have  had  him 
other  than  he  was !  She  never  wished  him  to  be  crafty  or 
worldly-wise.  Ten  thousand  times  was  he  dearer,  in  all  his 
weakness,  than  if  he  had  the  cunning  of  the  craftiest  that 
ever  outschemed  their  neighbors.  "^ly  poor  boy,"  said 
she,  "what  hard  lessons  there  are  before  you!  It  is  well 
that  you  have  a  brave,  big  heart,  as  well  as  a  tender  one." 

He  was  so  like  his  father,  too,  as  he  lay  there,  —  no  great 
guarantee  for  success  in  life  was  that!  —  and  her  tears  fell 
faster  as  she  looked  at  him;  and  fearing  that  her  sobs 
might  awake  him,  she  stole  silently  away  and  left  the 
room. 

"There's  the  steam-whistle,  mother;  I  can  just  see  the 
smoke  over  the  cliff.  I  'm  off,"  said  he,  as  she  had  dropped 
off  asleep. 

"But  your  breakfast,  Tony;  I  '11  make  you  a  cup  of  tea." 

"Not  for  the  world;  I  'm  late  enough  as  it  is.  God  bless 
you,  little  woman.  1  '11  be  back  before  you  know  that  1  'm 
gone.     Good-bye." 

She  could  hardly  trace  the  black  speck  as  the  boat  shot 
out  in  the  deep  gloom  of  daybreak,  and  watched  it  till  it 
rounded  the  little  promontory,  when  she  lost  it;  and  then 
her  sorrow  —  sorrow  that  recalled  her  great  desolation  — 
burst  forth,  and  she  cried  as  they  only  cry  who  are  for- 
saken. But  this  was  not  for  long.  It  was  the  passion  of 
grief,  and  her  reason  soon  vanquished  it;  and  as  she  dried 
her  teirs,  she  said,  "Have  I  not  much  to  be  grateful  for? 
AVhat  a  noble  boy  he  is,  and  what  a  brave  good  man  he 
may  be !  " 


CHAPTER   n. 

A    COUNTRY-HOUSE    IN    IRELAND. 

The  country-house  life  of  Ireland  had  —  and  I  would  say  has, 
if  I  were  not  unhappily  drawing  on  my  memory  —  this  advan- 
tage over  that  of  England,  that  it  was  passed  in  that  season 
when  the  country  offered  all  that  it  had  of  beauty  and  attrac- 
tion; when  the  grove  was  leafy,  and  the  blossomy  fruit-trees 
vied  in  gorgeous  color  with  the  flowery  beds  beneath  them ; 
when  the  blackbird's  mellow  song  rang  through  the  thicket, 
9,nd  the  heavy  plash  of  the  trout  rose  above  the  ripple  of  the 
river;  when  the  deep  grass  waved  like  a  sea  under  a  summer 
wind,  and  the  cattle,  grouped  picturesquely,  tempered  the 
noonday  heat  beneath  the  spreading  elms,  or  stood  contem- 
platively in  the  stream,  happy  in  their  luxurious  indolence. 

What  a  wealth  of  enjoyment  does  such  a  season  offer! 
How  imperceptibly  does  the  lovely  aspect  of  nature  blend 
itself  day  by  day  with  every  incident  of  our  lives,  stealing 
its  peaceful  influence  over  our  troubled  hearts,  blunting  the 
pangs  of  our  disappointments,  calming  down  the  anxieties 
of  our  ambitions!  How  pleasant  is  the  companionship  of 
our  book,  and  doubly,  trebly  delightful  the  converse  of  our 
friend !  How  gratefully,  too,  do  we  imbibe  the  health  that 
comes  with  every  charm  of  color  and  sound  and  form  and 
odor,  repeating  at  every  step,  "  How  beautiful  the  world  is, 
and  how  enjoyable !  " 

I  am  not  going  to  disparage  —  far  be  it  from  me  —  the 
fox-cover  or  the  grouse-mountain;  but,  after  all,  these  are 
the  accidents,  not  the  elements,  of  country  life,  which  cer- 
tainly ought  to  be  passed  when  the  woods  are  choral  with 
the  thrush,  and  the  air  scented  with  the  apple-blossom ;  when 
it  is  sweet  to  lie  under  the  weeping-willow  beside  the  stream, 
or  stroll  at  sunset  through  the  grove,  to  gain  that  crested 

2 


18  TONY   BUTLER. 

ridge  where  the  red  horizon  can  be  seen,  and  watch  the 
great  sun  as  it  sinks  in  splendor. 

Lyle  Abbey  had  not  many  pretensions  to  beauty  of  archi- 
tecture in  itself,  or  to  scenery  in  its  neighborhood.  Nor 
was  it  easy  to  say  why  a  great,  bulky,  incongruous  build- 
ing, disfigured  by  painted  windows  to  make  it  Gothic, 
should  have  ever  been  called  an  Abbey.  It  was,  however, 
both  roomy  and  convenient  within.  There  were  fine,  lofty, 
spacious  reception-rooms,  well  lighted  and  ventilated. 
"Wide  corridors  led  to  rows  of  comfortable  chambers,  where 
numbers  of  guests  could  be  accommodated,  and  in  every 
detail  of  fitting  and  furniture,  ease  and  comfort  had  been 
studied  with  a  success  that  attained  perfection. 

The  grounds,  —  a  space  of  several  hundred  acres,  —  en- 
closed within  a  massive  wall,  had  not  more  pretensions  to 
beauty  than  the  mansion.  There  were,  it  is  true,  grand 
points  of  view,  —  noble  stretches  of  shore  and  sea-coast  to 
be  had  from  certain  eminences,  and  abundant  undulations, 
—  some  of  these  wild  and  picturesque  enough ;  but  the 
great  element  of  all  was  wanting,  —  there  was  no  foliage,  or 
next  to  none. 

Trees  will  not  grow  in  this  inhospitable  climate,  or  only 
grow  in  the  clefts  and  valleys;  and  even  there  their  stunted 
growth  and  scathed  branches  show  that  the  northwest  wind 
has  found  them  out,  twisting  their  boughs  uncouthly  towards 
the  eastward,  and  giving  them  a  semblance  to  some  scared 
and  hooded  traveller  scudding  away  before  a  storm. 

Vegetation  thrives  no  better.  The  grass,  of  sickly  yellow, 
is  only  fit  for  sheep,  and  there  are  no  traces  of  those  vast 
tracts  of  verdure  which  represent  culture  in  the  South  of 
Ireland.  Wealth  had  fought  out  the  battle  bravely,  how- 
ever, and  artificial  soils  and  trees  and  ornamental  shrubs, 
replaced  and  replaced  by  others  as  they  died  off,  combated 
the  ungrateful  influences,  and  won  at  last  a  sort  of  victor3\ 
That  is  to  say,  the  stranger  felt,  as  he  passed  the  gate,  that 
he  was  entering  what  seemed  an  oasis,  so  wild  and  dreary 
and  desolate  was  the  region  which  stretched  away  for  miles 
on  every  side. 

Some  drives  and  walks  had  been  designed  —  what  will  not 
landscape    gardening    do?  —  with    occasional   shelter    and 


A  COUNTRY-HOUSE   IN  IRELAND.  19 

cover.     The  majority,  however,  led  over  wild,  bleak  crests, 

—  breezy  and  bracing  on  fine  days,  but  storm-lashed  when- 
ever the  wind  came,  as  it  will  for  ten  months  out  of  twelve, 
over  the  great  rolling  waters  of  the  Atlantic. 

The  most  striking  and  picturesque  of  these  walks  led 
along  the  cliffs  over  the  sea,  and,  indeed,  so  close  as  to  be 
fenced  off  by  a  parapet  from  the  edge  of  the  precipice.  It 
was  a  costly  labor,  and  never  fully  carried  out,  —  the  two 
miles  which  had  been  accomplished  figuring  for  a  sum  that 
Sir  Arthur  declared  would  have  bought  the  fee-simple  of  a 
small  estate.  It  was  along  this  pathway  that  Captain  Lyle 
sauntered  with  his  two  sisters  on  the  morning  after  his 
arrival.  It  was  the  show  spot  of  the  whole  demesne;  and 
certainly,  as  regards  grand  effects  of  sea-view  and  coast- 
line, not  to  be  surpassed  in  the  kingdom.  They  had  plotted 
together  in  the  morning  how  they  would  lead  Mark  in  this 
direction,  and,  suddenly  placing  him  in  one  of  the  most 
striking  spots,  enjoy  all  his  wonderment  and  admiration; 
for  Mark  Lyle  had  seldom  been  at  home  since  his  "Harrow  " 
days,  and  the  Abbey  and  its  grounds  were  almost  strange 
to  him. 

"What  are  the  rocks  yonder,  Bella?"  said  he,  listlessly, 
as  he  puffed  his  cigar  and  pointed  seaward. 

"The  Skerries,  Mark;  see  how  the  waves  beat  over  that 
crag.  They  tried  to  build  a  lighthouse  there,  but  the  foun- 
dations were  soon  swept  away." 

"And  what  is  that?     It  looks  like  a  dismantled  house." 
'     "That  is  the  ruined  castle  of  Dunluce.     It  belonged  to  the 
Antrim  family." 

"Good  heavens!  what  a  dreary  region  it  all  is!"  cried  he, 
interrupting.  "I  declare  to  you,  South  Africa  is  a  garden 
compared  to  this." 

"Oh,  Mark,  for  shame!"  said  his  elder  sister.  "The 
kingdom  has  nothing  grander  than  this  coast-line  from 
Portrush  to  Fairhead." 

"I  'm  no  judge  of  its  grandeur,  but  I  tell  you  one  thing, 

—  I  'd  not  live  here,  —  no,  nor  would  I  contract  to  live  six 
months  in  a  year  here,  —  to  have  the  whole  estate.  This  is 
a  fine  day,  I  take  it." 

"It  is  a  glorious  day,"  said  Bella. 


20  TONY  BUTLER, 

**Well.  it's  just  as  much  as  we  can  do  to  keep  got  legs 
here;  and  certainly  jour  flattened  bonnets  and  dishevelled 
hair  are  no  allies  to  your  good  looks." 

••Our  looks  are  not  in  question,"  said  the  elder,  tartly. 
"We  were  talking  of  the  scenery;  and  I  defy  you  to  tell  me 
where,  in  all  your  travels,  you  have  seen  its  equal." 

**I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  Alice,  it's  deuced  dear  at  the 
price  we  are  looking  at  it;  I  mean,  at  the  cost  of  this  pre- 
cious bit  of  road  we  stand  on.  Where  did  the  governor  get 
his  engineer?" 

"It  was  Tony  planned  this, — every  yard  of  it."  said 
Bella,  proudly. 

••And  who  is  Tony,  pray?"  said  he,  superciliously. 

"You  met  him  last  night, — young  Butler.  He  dined 
here,  and  sat  next  Alice." 

"You  mean  that  great  hulking  fellow,  with  the  attempt  at 
a  straw-colored  moustache,  who  directed  the  fireworks." 

•'I  mean  that  very  good-lookiug  young  man  who  coolly 
removed  the  {Xjwder-flask  that  you  had  incautiously  for- 
gotten next  the  rocket- train."  said  Mrs.  Trafford. 

"And  that  was  Tony  I  "  said  he,  with  a  faint  sneer. 

"Yes,  Mark,  that  was  Tony;  and  if  you  want  to  dis- 
parage him.  let  it  be  to  some  other  than  Bella  and  myself; 
for  he  is  an  old  playmate  that  we  both  esteem  highly,  and 
wish  well  to." 

**I  am  not  surprised  at  it,"  said  he,  languidly.  "I  never 
saw  a  snob  yet  that  couldn't  find  a  woman  to  defend  him; 
and  this  fellow,  it  would  seem,  has  got  two." 

"Tony  a  snob!  *' 

"Tony  Butler  a  snob!  Just  the  very  thing  he  is  not. 
Poor  boy.  there  never  was  one  to  whom  the  charge  was  less 
applicable." 

'•Don't  be  angry,  Alice,  because  I  don't  admire  your 
rustic  friend.  In  my  ignorance  I  fancied  he  was  a  preten- 
tious soil  of  bumpkin,  who  talked  of  things  a  little  out  of 
his  reach,  —  such  as  yachting,  steeple-chasing,  and  the 
like.  Is  n't  he  the  son  of  some  poor  dependant  of  the 
governor's?  " 

"Nothing  of  the  kind;  his  mother  is  a  widow,  with  very 
narrow  means,  I  believe;  but  his  father  was  a  colonel,  and 


ft  disdopnehed  ooe.     Am  to  depexkdexxee,  tb«e»  Is  i!m>  jkk^i 
relalioo  betir€«a  ae-" 

-^I   uu  gjbd  of   thsLt.    f<>r  I  nober   fe<et  Maa  dovn  1m( 

"Set  Mm  down !     Wbat  do  T<>a  jaaesua ?  " 
'^  H€  wa*  talking  fbfmj>ewhskX  big  of  'erfMs^'^JoMrj  rvlia^ 
sjDid  I  fteked  him  atlyxit  hm  et&btLe^  ubkI  i£  Jbas  esttlle  fam 

Mfco*^  oa  b^xke  txcSLD  blood- " 

-    Mark-  j .  i^  BellA.  ajncwariy, 

.  r  -     ajod  B-:_  -      .  ^  I  feaid-  *  Yo*  9B«k£l 

kt  iDie  waLQt  orer  6C  jar^  a.  look  at  jfxsr 

MLgs:  forlkjftf/ir  fr-.—   „-   «^^v  ^.  _  epeaJt  of  iM:«sefU«b  I 

fettaJl  B€!e  feOdaaetJaiiitg  epier/  " 

"Aixd  -wijat  ajasirer  did  iae  BaaJtfe?  "  ajtked  Befla,  wtda  aa 
eager  look- 

"He  got  T€rT  red-  erijia«o«ia-  iiAihfA.  aiod  «taBi0m(««d  o^ot, 
*  Yoa  laaaj  §|iare  joarfeelf  tfaie  walk,  sir:  fo^-  t^  o«iJt  qroaiid' 
mped  I  Jmre  k  a  gfcamkL  aiod  il^e  k  bdlod  fr^jm  age,  asrwi 

-Who  wag  the  saaob  tlsMere,  Mark?"  said  Kri-  TjaJfoH, 
aaagrflj. 

"•  Ali<?e ! "  said  ine-  rakia^  ki*  ejebrows.  tiA  kokicig  at 
her  wrtk  a  e^jild  astocii*.iaaaBiei3t, 

"I  beg  panic®  in  aD.  Immairtj.  Made-"  fi&id  rise,  iMBrtiij- 
"I  ami  Terr  soctt  to  JaaTe  o<f«ardifed  too;  but  I  tae^A.  mj- 
§<eJf-  I  faBie-ied  t<^  iofld  beiea  laaajnagt  to  oat  we  jH  waimt 
rerv  MgiLiT.  aad  mj  toeigiae  ootraja  aaie-'' 

'*  Tlihe&e  »orc  of  feEiow^-'^  coerdimiQiiefi  iae,  aft  if  ■niwiifing,  her 
€x«is.€e-  --  ocilj  get  a  f'^xxdaa^  im  fa^x»es  wiigEfie  tibcfe  «e  ■« 
laefiL  or  at  kaet  ao-Gie  of  tfaiear  owm  a«gs:;  aad  titaav  tiKj  Jre 
dteseonked  Adjirirab^  Criehltt—  btfCJUMff  tii£j csa  IKW, 
or  kim  a  ioJMkocL  Xo«r,  wliea  s  ^nn^mua  diixc 
aoad  fftj  aaore  of  "dae  saa»e  «orL  wjb^ij  know*  it-  Toa  H 
see  hsL  a  da. j  or  two  bieFe  a  friead  of  mine,  a  aertam  SMMSHUt 
Maasjaasnd-  tiaai  win  tisat  roar  jma^  fltrra^  ai  ««tsjtJitt^  — 
niA,  f<o«r«  waflk,  dnot  or  fingie-ftxk  Jrini  Car  wteterer  Ik 
yieswes;  aad  ?«t  IH  warper  jtmH  mevvr  kww  fron  Xait- 
lawTe  nsaiMr  or  eomnerfolkii  ti&a:t  Ik  <T«r  took  Ihe  l/^iek.  ci 
a  euBil  m  x  ka^  or  ribst  a  jei^^ur  iiii^'  hiiiiiiipiL*' 

^fe  yoar  ffcoix  milj  cosiae    ken?**    acbsd    Mm 


22  TONY  BUTLER. 

Trafford,  only  too  glad  to  get  another  channel  for  the 
conversation. 

' '  Yes ;  here  is  what  he  writes ;  "  and  he  took  a  note  from 
his  pocket.  " '  I  forget,  my  dear  Lyle,  whether  your 
chateau  be  beside  the  lakes  of  Killarney,  the  groves  of 
Blarney,  or  what  other  picturesque  celebrity  your  island 
claims ;  but  I  have  vowed  you  a  visit  of  two  days,  —  three, 
if  you  insist,  —  but  not  another  if  you  die  for  it.'  Is  n't  he 
droll?" 

"He  is  insufferably  impudent.  There  is  '  a  snob '  if  there 
ever  was  one,"  cried  Alice,  exultingly. 

"  Norman  Maitland,  Norman  Maitland  a  snob  !  Why,  my 
dear  sister,  what  will  you  say  next?  Ask  the  world  its 
opinion  of  Norman  Maitland,  for  he  is  just  as  well  known  in 
St.  Petersburg  as  Piccadilly,  and  the  ring  of  his  rifle  is  as 
familiar  on  the  Himalayas  as  on  a  Scotch  mountain.  There 
is  not  a  gathering  for  pleasure,  nor  a  country-house  party  in 
the  kingdom,  would  not  deem  themselves  thrice  fortunate  to 
secure  a  passing  visit  from  him,  and  he  is  going  to  give  us 
three  days." 

"  Has  he  been  long  in  your  regiment,  Mark?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Trafford. 

"Maitland  has  never  served  with  us;  he  joined  us  in 
Simla  as  a  member  of  our  mess,  and  we  call  him  '  of  ours ' 
because  he  never  would  dine  with  the  9th  or  the  50th.  Mait- 
land would  n't  take  the  command  of  a  division  to  have  the 
bore  and  worry  of  soldiering,  — and  why  should  he?  " 

It  was  not  without  astonishment  Mark's  sisters  saw  their 
brother,  usually  cold  and  apathetic  in  his  tone,  so  warmly 
enthusiastic  about  his  friend  Maitland,  of  whom  he  continued 
to  talk  with  rapture,  recalling  innumerable  traits  of  character 
and  temper,  but  which  unhappily  onl}^  testified  to  the  success 
with  which  he  had  practised  towards  the  world  an  amount  of 
impertinence  and  presumption  that  seemed  scarcely  credible. 

"  If  he  only  be  like  your  portrait,  I  call  him  downright 
detestable,"  said  Mrs.   Trafford. 

"  Yes,  but  you  are  dying  to  see  him  all  the  same,  and  so  is 
Bella." 

"  Let  nie  answer  for  myself,  Mark,"  said  Isabella,  "  and 
assure  you  that,  so  far  from  curiosity,  I  feel  an  actual  repug- 


A   COUNTRY-HOUSE   IN  IRELAND.  23 

nance  to  the  thought  of  meeting  him.  I  don't  really  know 
whether  the  condescending  politeness  of  such  a  man,  or  his 
cool  impertinence,   is  the  greater  insult." 

"Poor  Maitland,  how  will  you  encounter  what  is  prepared 
for  you?  "  said  he,  mockingly  ;  "  but  courage,  girls,  I  think 
he  '11  survive  it,  —  only  I  beg  no  unnecessary  cruelty,  —  no 
harshness  beyond  what  his  own  transgressions  may  call  down 
upon  him  ;  and  don't  condemn  him  merely,  and  for  no  other 
reason,  than  because  he  is  the  friend  of  your  brother." 
And  with  this  speech  he  turned  short  round  and  ascended  a 
steep  path  at  his  side,  and  was  lost  to  their  view  in  a  minute. 

"  Isn't  he  changed,  Alice?  Did  you  ever  see  any  one  so 
altered  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  changed,  Bella ;  he  is  exactly  what  he  was  at 
the  grammar-school,  at  Harrow,  and  at  Sandhurst,  —  very 
intolerant  to  the  whole  world,  as  a  compensation  for  the 
tyranny  some  one,  boy  or  man  as  it  may  be,  exercises  over 
him.  All  his  good  qualities  lie  under  this  veil,  and  so  it  was 
ever  with  him." 

*'  T  wish  his  friend  was  not  coming." 

*'  And  I  wish  that  he  had  not  sent  away  ours^  for  I'm  sure 
Tony  would  have  been  up  here  before  this  if  something 
unusual  had  not  occurred." 

^  Here  's  a  strange  piece  of  news  for  you,  girls,"  said  Sir 
Arthur,  coming  towards  them.  "  Tony  Butler  left  for  Liver- 
pool in  the  packet  this  morning.  Barnes,  who  was  seeing 
his  brother  off,  saw  him  mount  the  side  of  the  steamer  with 
his  portmanteau  in  his  hand.  Is  it  not  singular  he  should 
have  said  nothing  about  this  last  night?" 

The  sisters  looked  with  a  certain  secret  intelligence  at  each 
other,  but  did  not  speak.  "  Except,  perhaps,  he  may  have 
told  you  girls,"  added  he  quickly,  and  catching  the  glance 
that  passed  between  them. 

"  No,  papa,"  said  Alice,  "  he  said  nothing  of  his  intention 
to  us  ;  indeed,  he  was  to  have  ridden  over  with  me  this  morn- 
ing to  Mount-Leslie,  and  ask  about  those  private  theatricals 
that  have  been  concerted  tliere  for  the  last  two  3'ears,  but  of 
which  all  the  performers  either  marr}^  or  die  off  during  the 
rehearsals." 

"Perhaps    this    all-a-^compl'shed    friend    of   Mark's    who 


24  TONY  BUTLER. 

comes  here  by  the  end  of  the  week,  will  give  the  project  his 
assistance.  If  the  half  of  what  Mark  says  of  him  be  true, 
we  shall  have  for  our  guest  one  of  the  wonders  of  Europe." 

"  I  wish  the  Leslies  would  take  me  on  a  visit  till  he  goes," 
said  Alice. 

"And  I,"  said  Bella,  "have  serious  thoughts  of  a  sore 
throat  that  will  confine  me  to  my  room.  Brummelism  —  and 
I  hate  it — it  is  just  Brummelism  —  is  somewhat  out  of 
vogue  at  this  time  of  da}^  It  wants  the  prestige  of  origi- 
nality, and  it  wants  the  high  patronage  that  once  covered  it; 
but  there  is  no  sacrifice  of  self-respect  in  being  amused  by 
it,  so  let  us  at  least  enjoy  a  hearty  laugh,  which  is  more  than 
the  adorers  of  the  great  Beau  himself  ever  acquired  at  his 
expense." 

"At  all  events,  girls,  don't  desert  the  field  and  leave  me 
alone  with  the  enemy ;  for  this  man  is  just  coming  when  we 
shall  have  no  one  here,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it." 

"Don't  say  ill-luck,  papa,"  interposed  Bella;  "  for  if  he 
be  like  what  we  suspect,  he  would  outrage  and  affront  every 
one  of  our  acquaintance." 

"Three  days  are  not  an  eternity,"  said  he,  half  gayly, 
*'  and  we  must  make  the  best  of  it." 


CHAPTER   ni. 


A    VERY    "FINE    GENTLEMAN. 


One  word  about  Mr.  Norman  Maitlancl,  of  whom  this  history 
will  have  something  more  to  say  hereafter.  He  was  one  of 
those  men,  too  few  in  number  to  form  a  class,  but  of  which 
nearly  every  nation  on  the  Continent  has  some  examples,  — 
men  with  good  manners  and  good  means,  met  with  always 
in  the  great  world,  —  at  home  in  the  most  exclusive  circles, 
much  thought  of,  much  caressed  ;  but  of  whom,  as  to  family, 
friends,  or  belongings,  no  one  can  tell  anything.  They  who 
can  recall  the  society  of  Paris  some  forty  years  back,  will 
remember  such  a  man  in  Montrond.  Rich,  accomplished, 
handsome,  and  with  the  most  fascinating  address,  Montrond 
won  his  way  into  circles  the  barriers  to  which  extended  even 
to  royalty ;  and  yet  all  the  world  were  asking,  "  Who  is  he? 

—  who  knows  him?  "  Maitland  was  another  of  these.  Men 
constantly  canvassed  him,  agreed  that  he  was  not  of  these 
"Maitlands"  or  of  those  —  that  nobody  was  at  school  with 
him,  —  none  remembered  him  at  Eton  or  at  Rugby.  He 
first  burst  upon  life  at  Cambridge,  where  he  rode  boldly, 
was  a  first-rate  cricketer,  gave  splendid  wine-parties,  wrote 
a  prize  poem,  and  disappeared  none  ever  knew  whence  or 
wherefore.  He  was  elected  for  a  borough,  but  only  was 
seen  twice  or  thrice  in  the  House.  He  entered  the  army, 
but  left  without  joining  his  regiment.  He  was  to  be  heard 
of  in  every  city  of  Europe,  living  sumptuously,  playing  high, 

—  more  often  a  loser  than  a  winner.  His  horses,  his  car- 
riages, his  liveries,  were  models ;  and  wherever  he  went  his 
track  could  be  marked  in  the  host  of  imitators  he  left  behind 
him.  For  some  four  or  five  years  back  all  that  was  known 
of  him  was  in  some  vague  paragraph  appearing  from  time 


26  TONY  BUTLER. 

to  time  that  some  tourist  had  met  him  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains,  or  that  he  had  been  seen  in  Circassia.  An  Archduke 
on  his  travels  had  partaken  of  his  hospitality  in  the  extreme 
north  of  India ;  and  one  of  our  naval  commanders  spoke  of 
dining  on  board  his  yacht  in  the  Southern  Pacific.  Those 
who  were  curious  about  him  learned  that  he  was  beo^innins:  to 
show  some  slight  touches  of  years,  —  how  he  had  grown  fatter, 
some  said  more  serious  and  grave,  —  and  a  few  censoriously 
hinted  that  his  beard  and  moustaches  were  a  shade  darker 
than  they  used  to  be.  Maitland,  in  short,  was  just  begin- 
ning to  drop  out  of  people's  minds,  when  he  reappeared  once 
more  in  England,  looking  in  reality  very  little  altered,  save 
that  his  dark  complexion  seemed  a  little  darker  from  travel, 
and  he  was  slightly,  very  slightly,  bald  on  the  top  of  the 
head. 

It  was  remarked,  however,  that  his  old  pursuits,  which 
were  purely  those  of  pleasure  or  dissipation,  had  not,  to 
all  appearance,  the  same  hold  on  him  as  before.  "  He 
never  goes  down  to  Tattersall's,"  "  I  don't  think  I  have 
seen  him  once  at  the  opera,"  "  He  has  given  up  play  alto- 
gether," were  the  rumors  one  heard  on  all  sides ;  and  so 
it  was  that  the  young  generation,  who  had  only  heard  of 
but  never  seen  him,  were  sorely  disappointed  in  meeting 
the  somewhat  quiet,  reserved-looking,  haughty  man,  whose 
wild  feats  and  eccentricities  had  so  often  amused  them, 
but  who  now  gave  no  evidence  of  being  other  than  a  cold, 
well-bred  gentleman. 

It  was  when  hastily  passing  through  London,  on  his  re- 
turn from  India,  that  Mark  Lyle  had  met  him,  and  Mait- 
land had  given  him  a  half-careless  promise  to  come  and 
see  him.  "  1  want  to  go  across  to  Ireland,"  said  lie,  "  and 
whenever  town  gets  hot,  I'll  run  over."  Mark  would  have 
heard  the  same  words  from  a  royal  duke  with  less  pride, 
for  he  had  been  brought  up  in  his  Sandhurst  da3'S  with 
great  traditions  of  Maitland ;  and  the  favor  the  great  man 
had  extended  to  him  in  India,  riding  his  horses,  and  once 
sharing  his  bungalow,  had  so  redounded  to  his  credit  in 
the  regiment  that  even  a  tyrannical  major  had  grown  bland 
and  gentle  to  him. 

Mark  was,   however,    far    from   confident   that   he  could 


A  VERY  "FINE   GENTLEMAN."  27 

rely  on  his  promise.  It  seemed  too  bright  a  prospect  to 
be  possible.  Maitland,  who  had  never  been  in  Ireland,  — 
whom  one  could,  as  Mark  thought,  no  more  fancy  in  Ire- 
land than  he  could  imagine  a  London  fine  lady  passing  her 
mornings  in  a  poorhouse,  or  inspecting  the  coarse  labors 
of  a  sewing-school,  —  he  coming  over  to  see  him !  What 
a  triumph,  were  it  only  to  be  true !  and  now  the  post  told 
him  it  was  true,  and  that  Maitland  would  arrive  at  the 
Abbey  on  Saturday.  Now,  when  Mark  had  turned  away 
so  hastily  and  left  his  sisters,  he  began  to  regret  that  he 
bad  announced  the  approaching  arrival  of  his  friend  with 
such  a  flourish  of  trumpets.  "I  ought  to  have  said  noth- 
ing whatever  about  him.  I  ought  simply  to  have  announced 
him  as  a  man  very  well  off,  and  much  asked  out,  and 
have  left  the  rest  to  fortune.  All  I  have  done  by  my  ill- 
judged  praise  has  been  to  awaken  prejudice  against  him, 
and  make  them  eager  to  detect  flaws,  if  they  can,  in  his 
manner,  —  at  all  events  in  his  temper."  The  longer  he 
thought  over  these  things  the  more  they  distressed  him ; 
and,  at  last,  so  far  from  being  overjoyed,  as  he  expected, 
at  the  visit  of  his  distinguished  friend,  he  saw  the  day 
of  his  coming  dawn  with  dismay  and  misgiving.  Indeed, 
had  such  a  thing  as  putting  him  off  been  possible,  it  is 
likely  he  would  have  done  it. 

The  long-looked-for  and  somewhat  feared  Saturday  came 
at  last,  and  with  it  came  a  note  of  a  few  lines  from  Mait- 
land. They  were  dated  from  a  little  village  in  Wicklow, 
and  ran  thus  :  — 

"Dear  L.,  —  T  have  come  down  here  with  a  Yankee,  whom  I 
chanced  upon  as  a  travelling  companion,  to  look  at  the  mines,  — 
gold,  they  call  them ;  and  if  I  am  not  seduced  into  a  search  after 
nusigets,  I  shall  be  with  you  some  time  — I  cannot  define  the  day  — 
next  week.  The  country  is  prettier  and  the  people  less  barbarous 
than  I  expected  ;  but  I  hear  your  neighborhood  will  compensate  me 
for  both  disappointments.  l^ours,  N.  M." 

^'TYell!  are  we  to  send  the  carriage  into  Coleraine  for 
him,  Mark?"  asked  Sir  Arthur,  as  his  son  continued  to 
read   the  letter,  without  lifting  his  eyes. 

"No,"  said  Mark,  in  some  confusion.     "This  is  a  sort 


28  TONY  BUTLER. 

of  put-off.  He  cannot  be  here  for  several  days.  Some 
friend  or  acquaintance  has  dragged  him  off  in  another  direc- 
tion ;  "  and  he  crushed  the  note  in  his  hand,  afraid  of  being 
asked  to  read  or  to  show  it. 

"  The  house  will  be  full  after  Tuesday,  Mark,"  said  Lady 
Lyle.  "  The  Gores  and  the  Masseys  and  the  M'Clintocks 
will  all  be  here,  and  Gambier  Graham  threatens  us  with 
liimself  and  his  two  daughters." 

"  If  they  come,"  broke  in  Mark,  "  you'll  have  my  rooms 
at  your  disposal." 

'' 1  delight  in  them,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford  ;  "and  if  your 
elegantly  fastidious  friend  should  really  come,  I  count  upon 
them  to  be  perfect  antidotes  to  all  his  impertinence.  Sally 
Graham  and  the  younger  one,  whom  her  father  calls  '  Dick,' 
are  downright  treasures  when  one  is  in  want  of  a  forlorn 
hope  to  storm  town-bred  pretension." 

"  If  Maitland  is  to  be  baited,  Alice,  I'd  rather  the  bull- 
ring was  somewhere  else,"  said  her  brother,   angrily. 

"  The  real  question  is,  shall  we  have  room  for  all  these 
people  and  their  followers?"  said  Lady  Lyle. 

"  I  repeat,"  said  Mark,  "  that  if  the  Graham  girls  are  to 
be  here,  I  'm  off.  They  are  the  most  insufferably  obtrusive 
and  aggressive  women  I  ever  met ;  and  I  'd  rather  take  boat 
and  pass  a  month  at  the  Hebrides  than  stop  a  week  in  the 
house  with  them." 

"  I  think  Sally  thrashed  you  when  you  came  home  once  for 
the  holidays,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford,  laughing. 

"  No,  Alice,  it  was  Beck,"  broke  in  her  sister.  "  She  has 
a  wonderful  story  of  what  she  calls  a  left-hander,  that  she 
planted  under  his  eye.  She  tells  it  still  with  gVeat  gusto, 
but  owns  that  Mark  fought  on  very  bravely  for  two  rounds 
after." 

"  And  are  these  the  people  you  expect  me  to  show 
Maitland?"  said  Mark,  rising  from  the  table;  "I'd  rather, 
fifty  times  rather,  write  and  say,  '  We  cannot  receive  you ; 
our  house  is  full,  and  will  be  for  a  month  to  come.'  " 

"  Yes,  dear  Mark,  that  is  the  really  sensible  way  to  look 
at  it.  Nobody  nowadays  has  any  scruple  in  such  matters. 
One  is  invited  from  Monday  to  Thursday,  but  on  no  possible 
pretext  can  he  stay  to  Friday."     And  so  Mrs.  Trafford  ran 


A  VERY   "FINE   GENTLEMAN."  29 

away,  heaping,  by  apparent  consolations,   coals   of   fire  on 
his  angry  head. 

''  1  think  you  had  better  get  Alice  to  write  the  letter  her- 
,self,"  said  Bella;  "  I 'm  sure  she  will  do  it  with  great  tact 
and  discretion." 

''  Pray  do,"  added  she.  "  Entrust  me  with  the  despatch, 
and  I  promise  you  the  negotiation  will  be  completed  then  and 
there." 

'^  It  is  quite  bad  enough  to  shut  the  door  in  a  man's  face, 
without  jeering  at  him  out  of  the  window,"  said  Mark;  and 
he  dashed  out  of  the  room  in  a  rage. 

''  I  wish  he  had  shown  us  his  friend's  note,"  said  Alice. 
"I'm  quite  certain  that  his  anger  has  far  more  to  do  with 
that  epistle  than  with  any  of  our  comments  upon  it." 

"I'm  very  sorry  Mark  should  be  annoyed,"  said  Bella; 
"but  I'm  selfish  enough  to  own  that,  if  we  escape  Mr. 
Maitland's  visit,  I  shall  deem  the  bargain  a  good  one." 

"  I  suspect  Mr.  Maitland  does  not  intend  to  honor  us  by 
his  company,  and  that  w^e  may  spare  ourselves  all  the 
embarrassment  of  preparing  for  it,"  said  Lady  Lyle.  And 
now  the  three  ladies  set  themselves  to  consider  in  committee 
that  oft-vexed  problem  of  how  to  make  a  country-house  hold 
more  people  than  it  had  room  for,  and  how  to  persuade  the 
less  distinguished  of  the  guests  that  they  are  "  taking  out" 
in  cordiality  all  that  their  reception  wants  in  convenience. 
One  difficulty  presented  itself  at  every  step,  and  in  a 
variety  of  shapes.  Never  before  had  the  Abbey  been  full 
of  visitors  without  Tony  Butler  being  there  to  assist  in  their 
amusement,  —  Tony,  equally  at  home  on  land  and  on  sea, 
the  cavalier  of  young  ladies,  the  safe  coachman  of  mammas, 
the  guide  to  all  that  was  noteworth}^  the  fisherman,  the 
yachtsman  whom  no  weather  disconcerted,  no  misadventure 
could  provoke,  —  so  good-tempered  and  so  safe ;  ay,  so  safe  ! 
for  Tony  never  wanted  to  flirt  wdth  the  young  heiress,  nor 
teach  her  schoolboy  brother  to  smoke  a  short  pipe.  He  had 
neither  the  ambition  to  push  his  fortune  unfairly,  nor  to 
attach  his  junior  to  him  by  unworthy  means.  And  the 
sisters  ran  over  his  merits,  and  grew  very  enthusiastic  about 
traits  in  him  which,  by  inference,  they  implied  were  not  the 
gifts  of  others  nearer  home. 


80  TONY  BUTLER. 

*'I  wish,  papa,  you  would  ride  over  and  see  Mrs.  Butler, 
and  ask  when  Tony  is  expected  back  again." 

"  Or  if,"  added  Mrs.  Trafford —  "  or  if  we  could  get  him 
back  by  writing,  and  saying  how  much  we  want  him." 

'^  I  know  I'll  never  venture  on  Soliman  till  Tony  has  had 
a  hand  on  him." 

'*  And  those  chestnuts  mamma  wants  for  the  low  phaeton, 
—  who  is  to  break  them  now?  "  cried  Bella. 

''1  only  heard  yesterday,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  "that  the 
'  Mermaid's '  sails  were  all  cut  up.  Tony  was  going  to 
make  a  schooner  of  her,  it  seems ;  and  there  she  is  now,  dis- 
mantled, and  not  one  of  us  able  to  put  her  in  commission 
again." 

''I  declare  it  sounds  absurd,"  broke  in  Lady  Lyle,  "  but 
T  fancy  the  garden  is  beginning  to  look  neglected  already. 
Certainly  I  never  saw  Mr.  Graft  there  the  whole  morn- 
ing ;  and  he  would  not  have  dared  to  absent  himself  if  Tony 
were  here." 

"I'd  go  over  willingly  and  see  his  mother,"  said  Sir 
Arthur;  "but  as  Tony  did  not  confide  to  us  his  intended 
journey,  but  set  off  without  a  word,  it  would  have  the 
appearance  of  a  certain  prying  curiosity  on  my  part  were 
1  to  ask  after  him,  and  when  he  is  expected  home  again." 

"  Not  if  you  were  to  say  frankly  that  we  wanted  him,  and 
could  n't  get  on  without  him,  papa,"  said  Alice.  "  I  'd  have 
no  shame  in  saying  that  we  are  perfectly  helpless  without 
his  skill,  his  courage,  his  ready  wit,  and  his  good  nature." 

"  Why  not  secure  all  those  perfections  beyond  risk, 
Alice?"  said  Sir  Arthur,  laughing. 

"How  so?  —  only  tell  me." 

"  Marry  him." 

"First  of  all,  papa,  he  might  not  marry  me;  and,  sec- 
ondly, if  he  should,  it  might  not  be  the  way  to  insure  the 
perpetuity  I  covet.  You  know  what  Swift  says  of  the 
'  promising '  Princes  and  the  '  bad '  Kings  the  world  is  full 
of?" 

"  I  protest,"  said  Lady  Lyle,  haughtily,  "  I  have  a  great 
regard  for  young  Butler ;  but  it  has  never  gone  the  length 
of  making  me  desire  him  for  a  son-in-law." 

"  Meanwhile,  papa,  —  for  we  have  quite  time  enough  to 


A  VERY   "FIXE   GENTLEMAN."  31 

think  over  the  marriage,  —  pray  let  me  order  them  to  .saddle 
Peter  for  you,   and  ride  over  to  the  Burnside." 

"Do  so,  Alice;  I'm  quite  ready;  but,  first  of  all,  give 
me  my  iustructious." 

"  ^Ye  want  Tony,"  broke  in  Bella. 

"Yes;  and  insist  on  having  him.  He  must  be  here  by 
Monday  night  or  Tuesday  morning,  if  it  cost  an  express  to 
go  after  him." 

"  We  ought  to  bear  in  mind,  girls,  that  Tony  has  not  left 
home  in  pursuit  of  pleasure.  The  poor  fellow  has  had  some 
call  of  urgency  or  necessity,  and  our  selfishness  must  not  go 
the  length  of  a  cruelty." 

"  But  with  your  nice  tact,  papa,  you'll  find  out  all  that; 
you  '11  learn,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  whether  anything 
of  importance  has  called  him  away,  or  whether  it  be  not,  as 
I  half  suspect,  a  sort  of  passing  caprice."  And  she  looked 
significantly  at  Bella,  and  left  her  sentence  unfinished. 

"Do  you  know  of  anything  that  should  induce  you  to 
believe  this,  Alice?" 

"Nothing  more  than  a  chance  word  that  dropped  from 
Mark  this  morning.  He  took  it  into  his  head  last  night  that 
poor  Tony  was  presumptuous,  and  gave  himself  airs,  — 
Tony !  of  all  creatures  in  the  world ;  and  so  the  great 
hussar,  in  the  plenitude  of  his  regimental  experiences, 
essayed  what  he  called  '  to  put  him  down ' !  Now,  the 
chances  are  that  this  may  have  occasioned  some  unpleasant- 
ness, and  it  is  not  in  the  least  unlikely  may  have  led  to 
Tony's  departure." 

"  You  must  be  right,  Alice  ;  and  since  we  have  been  stand- 
ing here  at  the  window,  I  saw  Mrs.  Butler's  herd  give  Mark 
a  letter,  which,  after  reading,  he  crushed  impatiently  in  his 
hand  and  thrust  into  his  pocket.  This  decides  me  at  once. 
I  will  go  down  to  Mrs.   Butler's  without  delay." 

"  Please  explain  that  I  have  not  called,  solely  because  the 
carriage-road  is  so  bad.  The  drive  down  through  that  forest 
of  fern  and  reeds  is  like  a  horrid  nightmare  on  me,"  said 
Lady  Lyle. 

"  Well,  I  think  T  can  apologize  for  your  absence  without 
telling  her  that  she  lives  in  an  unapproachable  wilderness," 
said  he,  laughing;   "and  as  she  cares  little  for  visiting  or 


32  TONY   BUTLER. 

being  visited,  the  chances  are  my  task  will  be  an  easy 
one." 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  go  with  you,  papa?  "  asked  Alice. 

"Yes,  by  all  means;  but  stay,"  added  he,  quickly,  "it 
might  possibly  be  better  not  to  come ;  if  anything  unpleas- 
ant should  have  occurred  between  Mark  and  Tony,  she  will 
have  less  reluctance  to  speak  of  it  when  we  are  alone." 

They  all  agreed  that  this  was  well  thought  of,  and  soon 
after  saw  him  set  out  on  his  mission,  their  best  wishes  for 
his  success  following  him. 

Sir  Arthur  pondered  as  he  went  over  what  he  should  say, 
and  how  he  would  meet  the  remarks  he  deemed  it  likely  she 
would  make  to  him.  Without  being  in  the  least  what  is 
called  a  person  of  superior  abilities,  Mrs.  Butler  was  a  some- 
what hard-headed  woman,  whose  North  of  Ireland  caution 
and  shrewdness  stood  her  in  stead  for  higher  qualities ;  and 
if  they  would  not  have  guided  her  in  great  difficulties,  she 
had  the  good  fortune  or  the  prudence  to  escape  from  such. 
He  knew  this ;  and  he  knew  besides  that  there  pertains  to  a 
position  of  diminished  means  and  station  a  peculiar  species 
of  touchy  pride,  always  suggesting  to  its  possessor  the  sus- 
picion that  this  or  that  liberty  would  never  have  been  taken 
in  happier  days,  and  thus  to  regard  the  most  well-meant 
counsels  and  delicately  conveyed  advice  as  uncalled-for 
interference,  or  worse. 

It  was  after  much  consideration  he  saw  himself  at  the 
little  wicket  of  the  garden,  where  he  dismounted,  and,  fast- 
ening his  bridle  to  the  gate,  knocked  at  the  door.  Though 
he  could  distinctly  hear  the  sound  of  voices  within,  and  the 
quick  movement  of  feet,  his  summons  was  unanswered,  and 
he  was  about  to  repeat  it  for  the  third  time  when  the  door 
was  opened. 

"  Is  3^our  mistress  at  home,  Jeanie?"  said  he,  recogniz- 
ing with  a  smile  the  girl's  courtesy  to  him. 

"  Yes,  sir,  she's  at  home,"  was  the  dry  answer. 

"  Will  you  just  tell  her,  then,  that  Sir  Arthur  Lyle  would 
take  it  as  a  great  favor  if  she'd  permit  him  to  speak  to 
her?" 

The  girl  disappeared  with  the  message,  but  did  not  return 
again  for  several  minutes ;  and  when  she  did,  she   looked 


A  VERY  "FINE   GENTLEMAN."  33 

slightly  agitated.  "  My  mistress  is  very  sorry,  sir,  but  she 
canna  see  ye  the  day ;  it 's  a  sort  of  a  headache  she  has." 

"Mr.  Anthony,  is  he  at  home?"  asked  he,  curious  to 
remark  the  effect  of  his  question. 

"He  's  no  just  at  hame  the  noo,"  was  the  cautious  reply. 

"He  has  not  been  up  at  the  Abbey  to-day,"  said  he, 
carelessly;  "but,  to  be  sure,  I  came  through  the  '  bracken,' 
and  might  have  missed  him." 

A  little  dry  nod  of  the  head,  to  acknowledge  that  this  or 
anything  else  was  possible,  was  all  that  his  speech  elicited. 

"Say  that  I  was  very  sorry,  Jeanie,  that  Mrs.  Butler  could 
not  see  me,  and  sorrier  for  the  reason ;  but  that  I  hope  to- 
morrow or  next  day  to  be  more  fortunate.  Not,"  added  he, 
after  a  second  thought,  "that  what  I  wanted  to  speak  of  is 
important,  except  to  myself;  don't  forget  this,  Jeanie." 

"Iwinua  forget,"  said  she;  and  courtesying  again,  closed 
the  door.  Sir  Arthur  rode  slowly  back  to  report  that  his 
embassy  had  failed. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

SOME    NEW    ARRIVALS. 

Day  after  day  went  over,  and  no  tidings  of  Maitland. 
When  the  post  came  in  of  a  morning,  and  no  letter  in  his 
hand  appeared,  Mark's  impatience  was  too  perceptible  to 
make  any  comment  for  his  sisters  either  safe  or  prudent. 
Nor  was  it  till  nigh  a  week  passed  over  that  he  himself 
said,  "I  wonder  what  has  become  of  Maitland?  I  hope 
he  's  not  ill."  None  followed  up  the  theme,  and  it  dropped. 
The  expected  guests  began  to  drop  in  soon  after,  and,  except 
by  Mark  himself,  Mr.  Norman  Maitland  was  totally  for- 
gotten. The  visitors  were  for  the  most  part  squires,  and 
their  wives  and  families ;  solid,  well-to-do  gentlemen,  whose 
chief  objects  in  life  were  green  crops  and  the  poor-law. 
Their  talk  was  either  of  mangold  or  guano,  swedes  or  the 
union,  just  as  their  sons'  conversation  ranged  over  dogs, 
horses,  meets,  and  covers;  and  the  ladies  disported  in 
toilette,  and  such  details  of  the  Castle  drawing-rooms  as  the 
Dublin  papers  afforded.  There  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Warren, 
with  two  daughters  and  a  son;  and  the  Hunters,  with  two 
sons  and  a  daughter.  There  were  Colonel  Hoyle  and  Mrs. 
Hoyle,  from  regimental  head-quarters,  Belfast;  and  Groves 
Bulkney,  the  member  for  the  county,  who  had  come  over, 
in  the  fear  of  an  approaching  dissolution  of  Parliament,  to 
have  a  look  at  his  constituents.  He  was  a  Tory,  who  always 
voted  with  the  AVhigs;  a  sort  of  politician  in  great  favor 
with  the  North  of  Ireland,  and  usually  supposed  to  have 
much  influence  with  both  parties.  There  were  Masseys  from 
Tipperary,  and  M'Clintocks  from  Louth;  and,  lastly,  herald 
of  their  approach,  three  large  cofl3n-shaped  trunks,  unde- 
niably of  sea-origin,  with  the  words  "Cap.  Gambler  Gra- 
ham, R.N.,"  marked  on  them,  which  arrived  by  a  carrier, 


SOME   NEW  ARRIVALS.  35 

with  three  gun-cases  and  an  immense  array  of  fishing-tackle, 
gaffs,  and  nets. 

"So  I  see  those  odious  Grahams  are  coming,"  said  Mark, 
ill-humoredly,  as  he  met  his  elder  sister  in  the  hall.  "I 
declare,  if  it  were  not  that  Maitland  might  chance  to  arrive 
in  my  absence,  I*d  set  off  this  very  morning." 

"I  assure  you,  Mark,  you  are  all  wrong;  the  girls  are  no 
favorites  of  mine;  but  looking  to  the  staple  of  our  other 
guests,  the  Grahams  are  perfect  boons  from  Heaven.  The 
"Warrens,  with  their  infant  school,  and  Mrs.  Maxwell,  with 
her  quarrel  with  the  bishop,  and  the  Masseys,  with  their 
pretension  about  that  daughter  who  married  Lord  Claude 
Somebody,  are  so  terribly  tiresome  that  I  long  for  the 
racket  and  noise  of  those  bustling  young  women,  who  will 
at  least  dispel  our  dulness." 

*'At  the  cost  of  our  good  breeding." 

"At  all  events,  they  are  jolly  and  good-tempered  girls. 
We  have  known  them  for  —  " 

"Oh,  don't  say  how  long.  The  younger  one  is  two  years 
older  than  myself." 

''No,  Mark,  Beck  is  exactly  your  own  age." 

"Then  I  'm  determined  to  call  myself  five-and-thirty  the 
first  opportunity  I  have.  She  shall  have  three  years  tacked 
to  her  for  the  coming  into  the  world  along  with  me." 

"Sally  is  only  thirty- four." 

"Only!  the  idea  of  saying  only  to  thirty-f our. " 

"They  don't  look  within  eight  or  nine  years  of  it,  I 
declare.  I  suppose  you  will  scarcely  detect  the  slightest 
change  in  them." 

"So  much  the  worse.  Any  change  would  improve  them, 
in  my  eyes." 

"And  the  Captain,  too.  He,  I  believe,  is  now  Com- 
modore." 

"I  perceive  there  is  no  change  in  the  mode  of  travel," 
said  Mark,  pointing  to  the  trunks.  "The  heavy  luggage 
used  always  to  arrive  the  day  before  they  drove  up  in 
their  vile  Irish  jaunting-car.  Do  they  still  come  in  that 
fashion?" 

"Yes;  and  I  really  believe  with  the  same  horse  they  had 
long,  long  ago." 


36  TONY  BUTLER. 

"A  flea-bitten  mare  with  a  twisted  tail?" 

"The  very  same,"  cried  she,  laughing.  "I'll  certainly 
tell  Beck  how  well  you  remember  their  horse.  She  '11  take 
it  as  a  flattery." 

"Tell  her  what  you  like;  she'll  soon  find  out  how  much 
flattery  she  has  to  expect  from  ine  1  "  After  a  short  pause, 
in  which  he  made  two  ineffectual  attempts  to  light  a  cigar, 
and  slightly  burned  his  fingers,  he  said,  "I  'd  not  for  a  hun- 
dred pounds  that  Maitland  had  met  them  here.  With 
simply  stupid  country  gentry,  he  'd  not  care  to  notice  their 
ways  nor  pay  attention  to  their  humdrum  habits ;  but  these 
Grahams,  with  all  their  flagrant  vulgarity,  will  be  a  tempta- 
tion too  irresistible,  and  he  will  leave  this  to  associate  us 
forever  in  his  mind  with  the  two  most  ill-bred  women 
in  creation." 

"You  are  quite  unfair,  Mark ;  they  are  greatly  liked,  —  at 
least,  people  are  glad  to  have  them ;  and  if  we  only  had  poor 
Tony  Butler  here,  who  used  to  manage  them  to  perfection, 
they  'd  help  us  wonderfully  with  all  the  dulness  around  us." 

"Thank  Heaven  we  have  not.  I  'd  certainly  not  face  such 
a  constellation  as  the  three  of  them.  I  tell  you,  frankly, 
that  I  'd  pack  my  portmanteau  and  go  over  to  Scotland  if 
that  fellow  were  to  come  here  again." 

"You  're  not  likely  to  be  driven  to  such  an  extremity,  I 
suspect;  but  here  comes  papa,  and  I  think  he  has  been  down 
at  the  Burnside;  let  us  hear  what  news  he  has." 

"It  has  no  interest  for  me,"  said  he,  walking  away,  while 
she  hastened  out  to  meet  Sir  Arthur. 

"No  tidings,  Alice,  —  at  least,  none  that  I  can  learn. 
Mrs.  Butler's  headache  still  prevents  her  seeing  me,  though 
I  could  wager  I  saw  her  at  work  in  the  garden  when  I 
turned  off  the  high-road." 

"How  strange!     You  suspect  that  she  avoids  you?  " 

"I  am  certain  of  it;  and  I  went  round  by  the  minister's, 
thinking  to  have  a  talk  with  Stewart,  and  hear  something 
that  might  explain  this;  but  he  was  engaged  in  preparing 
his  sermon,  and  begged  me  to  excuse  him." 

"I  wish  we  could  get  to  the  bottom  of  this  mystery. 
Would  she  receive  me,  do  you  think,  if  I  were  to  go  over 
to  the  cottage?" 


SOME  NEW  ARKIVALS.  37 

"Most  likely  Dot.  I  suspect  whatever  it  be  that  has  led 
to  this  estrangement  will  be  a  passing  cloud ;  let  us  wait  and 
see.  Who  are  those  coming  up  the  bend  of  the  road?  The 
horse  looks  fagged  enough,  certainly." 

"The  Grahams,  I  declare!  Oh,  I  must  find  Mark,  and  let 
him  be  caught  here  when  they  arrive." 

"Don't  let  the  Commodore  get  at  me  before  dinner; 
that's  all  I  ask,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  as  he  rode  round  to  the 
stables. 

When  Alice  entered  the  house,  she  found  Mark  at  the 
open  window  watching  with  an  opera-glass  the  progress  of 
the  jaunting-car  as  it  slowly  wound  along  the  turns  of 
the  approach,  lost  and  seen  as  the  woods  intervened  or 
opened. 

"I  cannot  make  it  out  at  all,  Alice,"  said  he;  "there  are 
two  men  and  two  women,  as  well  as  I  can  see,  besides  the 
driver." 

"No,  no;  they  have  their  maid,  whom  you  mistake  for  a 
man." 

"Then  the  maid  wears  a  wideawake  and  a  paletot.  Look, 
and  see  for  yourself;  "  and  he  handed  her  the  glass. 

"I  declare  you  are  right, — it  is  a  man;  he  is  beside 
Beck,     Sally  is  on  the  side  with  her  father." 

'•Are  they  capable  of  bringing  some  one  along  with 
them?"  cried  he,  in  horror.  "Do  you  think  they  would 
dare  to  take  such  a  liberty  as  that  here?" 

"I'm  certain  they  would  not.  It  must  be  Kenrose  the 
apothecary,  who  was  coming  to  see  one  of  the  maids,  or 
one  of  our  own  people,  or  —  "  Her  further  conjectures  were 
cut  short  by  the  outburst  of  so  strong  an  expletive  as  cannot 
be  repeated;  and  Mark,  pale  as  death,  stammered  out,  "It 's 
Maitland!  Norman  Maitland!  " 

"But  how,   Mark,  do  they  know  him?" 

"Confound  them!  who  can  tell  how  it  happened?  "  said  he.. 
"I  '11  not  meet  him ;  I  '11  leave  the  house, —  I  '11  not  face  such 
an  indignity." 

"But  remember,  Mark,  none  of  us  know  your  friend,  we 
have  not  so  much  as  seen  him ;  and  as  he  was  to  meet  these 
people,  it's  all  the  better  they  came  as  acquaintances." 

"That's  all  very   fine,"  said  he,   angrily;  "you  can  be 


38  TONY  BUTLER. 

beautifully  philosophical  about  it,  all  because  you  have  n't 
to  go  back  to  a  mess-table  and  be  badgered  by  all  sorts  of 
allusions  and  references  to  Maitland's  capital  story." 

"Here  they  are,  here  they  are!"  cried  Alice;  and  the 
next  moment  she  was  warmly  embracing  those  dear  friends 
to  whose  failings  she  was  nowise  blind,  however  ardent  her 
late  defence  of  them.  Mark,  meanwhile,  had  advanced 
towards  Maitland,  and  gave  him  as  cordial  a  welcome  as 
he  could  command.  "My  sister  Mrs.  Trafford,  Mr.  Mait- 
land," said  he;  and  Alice  gave  her  hand  with  a  graceful 
cordiality  to  the  new  guest. 

"I  declare,  Mark  is  afraid  that  I  '11  kiss  him,"  cried  Beck. 
"Courage,  mon  amU  I'll  not  expose  you  in  public." 

"How  are  you?  how  are  you?"  cried  the  Commodore; 
"brown,  brown,  very  brown;  Indian  sun.  Lucky  if  the 
mischief  is  only  skin-deep." 

"Shake  hands,  Mark,"  said  Sally,  in  a  deep  masculine 
voice;  "don't  bear  malice,  though  I  did  pitch  you  out  of 
the  boat  that  day." 

Mark  was  however,  happily,  too  much  engaged  with  his 
friend  to  have  heard  the  speech.  He  was  eagerly  listening 
to  Maitland's  account  of  his  first  meeting  with  the  Grahams. 

"My  lucky  star  was  in  the  ascendant;  for  there  I  stood," 
said  Maitland,  "in  the  great  square  of  Bally  —  Bally  —  " 

"Ballymena,"  broke  in  Beck;  "and  there's  no  great 
square  in  the  place ;  but  you  stood  in  a  very  dirty  stable- 
yard,  in  a  much  greater  passion  than  such  a  fine  gentleman 
should  ever  give  way  to." 

"Calling,  'A  horse!  a  horse!  My  kingdom  for  a 
horse!  ' " 

"It  was  '  a  chaise  and  pair '  /heard,  and  you  were  well 
laughed  at  for  your  demand.  The  baker  offered  you  a  seat, 
which  you  rejected  with  dismay;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  it 
was  half  in  the  hope  of  witnessing  another  outburst  of  your 
indignation  that  I  went  across  and  said,  '  "Would  you  accept 
a  place  beside  me,  sir?  '  " 

"And  was  I  not  overwhelmed  with  joy?  Was  it  not  in 
a  transport  of  gratitude  that  I  embraced  your  offer?" 

"I  know  you  very  nearly  embraced  my  maid  as  you  lifted 
her  off  the  car." 


SOME  NEW  ARRIVALS.  39 

"And,  by  the  way,  where  is  Patience?"  asked  Mrs. 
Trafford. 

"She's  coming  on,  some  fashion,  with  the  swell's  luo-- 
gage,"  added  she,  dropping  her  voice  to  a  whisper,  —  "eight 
trunks,  eleven  carpet-bags,  and  four  dressing-boxes,  besides 
what  I  thought  was  a  show-box,  but  is  only  a  shower-bath." 

"My  people  will  take  every  care  of  her,"  said  Maitland. 

"Is  Feuton  still  with  you?"  asked  Mark. 

"Yes;  he  had  some  thoughts  of  leaving  me  lately.  He 
said  he  thought  he  'd  like  to  retire,  —  that  he  'd  take  a  con- 
sulate or  a  barrack-mastership;  but  I  laughed  him  out  of  it." 

Sir  Arthur  and  Lady  Lyle  had  now  come  down  to  welcome 
the  new  arrivals ;  and  greetings  and  welcomes  and  felicita- 
tions resounded  on  all  sides. 

"Come  along  with  me,  Maitland,"  said  Mark,  hurrying 
his  friend  away.  "Let  me  show  you  your  quarters;"  and 
as  he  moved  off,  he  added,  "What  a  piece  of  ill-luck  it  was 
that  you  should  have  chanced  upon  the  greatest  bores  of 
our  acquaintance!  —  people  so  detestable  to  me  that  if  I 
hadn't  been  expecting  your  visit  I'd  have  left  the  house 
this  morning." 

"I  don't  know  that,"  said  Maitland,  half  languidly; 
"  perhaps  I  have  grown  more  tolerant,  or  more  indifferent, 
—  what  may  be  another  name  for  the  same  thing;  but  I 
rather  liked  the  j^oung  women.  Have  we  any  more  stairs 
to  mount?  " 

"No;  here  you  are;"  and  Mark  reddened  a  little  at  the 
impertinent  question.  "I  have  put  you  here  because  this 
was  an  old  gargon  apartment  I  had  arranged  for  myself;  and 
you  have  your  bath-room  yonder,  and  your  servant,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  terrace." 

"It 's  all  very  nice,  and  seems  very  quiet,"  said  Maitland* 

"As  to  that,  you'll  not  have  to  complain;  except  the 
plash  of  the  sea  at  the  foot  of  those  cliffs,  j^ou  '11  never  hear 
a  sound  here." 

"It's  a  bold  thing  of  j'ou  to  make  me  so  comfortable, 
Lyle.  When  I  wrote  to  you  to  say  I  was  coming,  my  head 
was  full  of  what  we  call  country-house  life,  with  all  its 
bustle  and  racket,  —  noisy  breakfasts  and  noisier  luncheons, 
with  dinners  as  numerous  as  tables  d'hote,     I  never  dreamed 


40  TONY  BUTLER. 

of  such  a  paradise  as  this.  May  I  dine  here  all  alone  when 
in  the  humor?" 

''You  are  to  be  ail  your  own  master,  and  to  do  exactly 
as  you  please.  I  need  not  say,  though,  that  I  will  scarce 
forgive  you  if  you  grudge  us  your  company." 

''I'm  not  always  up  to  society.  I'm  growing  a  little 
footsore  with  the  world,  Lyle,  and  like  to  lie  down  in  the 
shade." 

"  Lewis  told  me  you  were  writing  a  book,  —  a  novel,  I 
think  he  said,"  said  Mark. 

"I  write  a  book!  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing. 
Why,  my  dear  Lyle,  the  fellows  who  —  like  myself  —  know 
the  whole  thing,  never  write!  Have  n't  you  often  remarked 
that  a  man  who  has  passed  years  of  life  in  a  foreign  city 
loses  all  power  of  depicting  its  traits  of  peculiarity,  just 
because,  from  habit,  they  have  ceased  to  strike  him  as 
strange  ?  So  it  is.  Y'our  thorough  man  of  the  world  knows 
life  too  well  to  describe  it.  No,  no ;  it  is  the  creature  that 
stands  furtively  in  the  flats  that  can  depict  what  goes  on  in 
the  comedy.     "Who  are  your  guests?  " 

Mark  ran  over  the  names  carelessly. 

"All  new  to  me,  and  I  to  them.  Don't  introduce  me, 
Mark;  leave  me  to  shake  down  in  any  bivouac  that  may 
offer.  I  '11  not  be  a  bear  if  people  don't  bait  me.  Y"ou 
understand?" 

"Perhaps  I  do." 

"There  are  no  foreigners?  That's  a  loss.  They  season 
society,  though  they  never  make  it,  and  there's  an  evasive 
softness  in  French  that  contributes  much  to  the  courtesies 
of  life.  So  it  is ;  the  habits  of  the  Continent  to  the  wearied 
man  of  the  world  are  just  like  loose  slippers  to  a  gouty 
man.  People  learn  to  be  intimate  there  without  being  over- 
familiar,  —  a  great  point,  Mark." 

"By  the  way,  — talking  of  that  same  familiarity,  — there 
was  a  young  fellow  who  got  the  habit  of  coming  here,  before 
I  returned  from  India,  on  such  easy  terms  that  I  found  him 
installed  like  one  of  ourselves.  He  had  his  room,  his 
saddle-horse,  a  servant  that  waited  on  him,  and  who  did  his 
orders,  as  if  he  were  a  son  of  the  family.  I  cut  the  thing 
very  short  when  I  came  home,  by  giving  him  a  message  to 


SOME   NEW  ARRIVALS.  41 

do  some  trifling  service,  just  as  I  would  have  told  my  valet. 
He  resented,  left  the  bouse,  and  sent  me  this  letter  next 
morning." 

"Not  much  given  to  letter- writing,  I  see,"  muttered  Mait- 
land,  as  he  read  over  Tony's  epistle;  ''but  still  the  thing  is 
reasonably  well  put,  and  means  to  say,  '  Give  me  a  chance, 
and  I  'm  ready  for  you.'     AVhat  's  the  name,  — Buller?  '* 

"No;  Butler,  — Tony  Butler  they  call  him  here." 

"What  Butlers  does  he  belong  to?  "  asked  Maitland,  with 
more  interest  in  his  manner. 

"No  Butlers  at  all, — at  least,  none  of  any  standing. 
My  sisters,  who  swear  by  this  fellow,  will  tell  you  that  his 
father  was  a  colonel  and  C.B.,  and  I  don't  know  what  else; 
and  that  his  uncle  was,  and  I  believe  is,  a  certain  Sir 
Omerod  Butler,  minister  or  ex-minister  somewhere;  but  I 
have  my  doubts  of  all  the  fine  parentage,  seeing  that  this 
youth  lives  with  his  mother  in  a  cottage  here  that  stands 
in  the  rent-roll  at  £18  per  annum." 

"There  is  a  Sir  Omerod  Butler,"  said  Maitland,  with  a 
slow,  thoughtful  enunciation. 

"But  if  he  be  this  youth's  uncle,  he  never  knows  nor 
recognizes  him.  My  sister,  Mrs.  Trafford,  has  the  whole 
story  of  these  people,  and  will  be  charmed  to  tell  it  to  you." 

"I  have  no  curiosity  in  the  matter,"  said  Maitland, 
languidly.  "The  world  is  really  so  very  small  that  by  the 
time  a  man  reaches  my  age  he  knows  every  one  that  is  to 
be  known  in  it.  And  so,"  said  he,  as  he  looked  again  at 
the  letter,  "he  went  off,  after  sending  you  the  letter?  " 

"Yes,  he  left  this  the  same  day." 

"And  where  for?" 

"I  never  asked.  The  girls,  I  suppose,  know  all  about 
his  movements.  I  overhear  mutterings  about  poor  Ton}'  at 
every  turn.  Tell  me,  Maitland,"  added  he,  with  more  ear- 
nestness, "is  this  letter  a  thing  1  can  notice?  Is  it  not  a 
regular  provocation  ?  " 

"It  is,  and  it  is  not,"  said  Maitland,  as  he  lighted  a  cigar, 
puffing  the  smoke  leisurely  between  his  words.  "If  he  were 
a  man  that  you  would  chance  upon  at  every  moment,  meet 
at  your  club,  or  sit  opposite  at  dinner,  the  thing  would 
fester  into  a  sore  in  its  own  time;  but  here  is  a  fellow,  it 


42  TONY  BUTLER. 

may  be,  that  you  '11  never  see  again,  or  if  so,  but  on  distant 
terms,  I  'd  say,  put  the  document  with  your  tailor's  bills, 
and  think  no  more  of  it." 

Lyle  nodded  an  assent,  and  was  silent. 

"I  say,  Lyle,"  added  Maitland,  after  a  moment,  "I'd 
advise  you  never  to  speak  of  the  fellow,  —  never  discuss 
him.  If  your  sisters  bring  up  his  name,  let  it  drop  un- 
noticed ;  it  is  the  only  way  to  put  the  tombstone  on  such 
memories.     What  is  your  dinner-hour  here?  " 

'*Late  enough,  even  for  you,  —  eight." 

"That  is  civilized.  I'll  come  down  —  at  least,  to-day," 
said  he,  after  a  brief  pause;  "and  now  leave  me." 

When  Lyle  withdrew,  ]Maitland  leaned  on  the  window-sill, 
and  ranged  his  eyes  over  the  bold  coast-line  beneath  him. 
It  was  not,  however,  to  admire  the  bold  promontory  of 
Fairhead,  or  the  sweeping  shore  that  shelved  at  its  base; 
nor  was  it  to  gaze  on  the  rugged  outline  of  those  perilous 
rocks  which  stretched  from  the  Causeway  far  into  the  open 
sea.  His  mind  was  far,  far  away  from  the  spot,  deep  in 
cares  and  wiles  and  schemes;  for  his  was  an  intriguing 
head,  and  had  its  own  store  of  knaveries. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN    LONDON. 

Seeking  one's  fortune  is  a  very  gambling  sort  of  affair.  It 
is  leaving  so  much  to  chance,  trusting  so  implicitly  to  what 
is  called  "luck,"  that  it  makes  all  individual  exertion  a 
merely  secondary  process,  —  a  kind  of  "auxiliary  screw  "  to 
aid  the  gale  of  Fortune.  It  was  pretty  much  in  this  spirit 
that  Tony  Butler  arrived  in  London;  nor  did  the  aspect  of 
that  mighty  sea  of  humanity  serve  to  increase  his  sense 
of  self-reliance.  It  was  not  merely  his  loneliness  that  he 
felt  in  that  great  crowd,  but  it  was  his  utter  inutility  —  his 
actual  worthlessness  —  to  all  others.  If  the  gamester's 
sentiment,  to  try  his  luck,  was  in  his  heart,  it  was  the  spirit 
of  a  very  poor  gambler,  who  had  but  one  "throw  "  to  risk 
on  fortune;  and,  thus  thinking,  he  set  out  for  Downing 
Street. 

If  he  was  somewhat  disappointed  in  the  tumble-down, 
ruinous  old  mass  of  building  which  held  the  state  secrets  of 
the  empire,  he  was  not  the  less  awestruck  as  he  found 
himself  at  the  threshold  where  the  great  men  who  guide 
empires  were  accustomed  to  pass  in.  With  a  bold  effort  he 
swung  back  the  glass  door  of  the  inner  hall,  and  found  him- 
self in  presence  of  a  very  well-whiskered,  imposing-looking 
man,  who,  seated  indolently  in  a  deep  armchair,  was  busily 
engaged  in  reading  the  "Times."  A  glance  over  the  top  of 
the  paper  was  sufficient  to  assure  this  great  official '  that  it 
was  not  necessary  to  interrupt  his  perusal  of  the  news  on 
the  stranger's  account,  and  so  he  read  on  undisturbed. 

"I  have  a  letter  here  for  Sir  Harry  Elphinstone,"  began 
Tony;  "can  I  deliver  it  to  him?  " 

"You  can  leave  it  in  that  rack  yonder,"  said  the  other, 
pointing  to  a  glass-case  attached  to  the  wall. 


44  TONY  BUTLER. 

''But  I  wish  to  give  it  myself,  — with  my  own  hand." 

''8ir  Harry  comes  down  to  the  office  at  five,  and,  if  your 
name  is  down  for  an  audience,  will  see  you  after  six." 

"And  if  it  is  not  down?" 

"He  won't  see  you;  that 's  all."  There  was  an  impatience 
about  the  last  words  that  implied  he  had  lost  his  place  in 
the  newspaper,  and  wished  to  be  rid  of  his  interrogator. 

"  And  if  I  leave  my  letter  here,  when  shall  I  call  for  the 
answer?  "  asked  Tony,  diffidently. 

"  Any  time  from  this  to  this  day  six  weeks,"  said  the  other, 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand  to  imply  the  audience  was  ended. 

"  What  if  I  were  to  try  his  private  residence?  "  said  Tony. 

"  Eighty-one,  Park  Lane,"  said  the  other,  aloud,  while  he 
mumbled  over  to  himself  the  last  line  he  had  read,  to  recall 
his  thoughts  to  the  passage. 

''  You  advise  me  then  to  go  there?  " 

"Always  cutting  down,  always  slicing  off  something!" 
muttered  the  other,  with  his  eyes  on  the  paper.  "  '  For  the 
port-collector  of  Hallihololulo,  three  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds.  Mr.  Scrudge  moved  as  amendment  that  the  vote 
be  reduced  by  the  sum  of  seventy-four  pounds  eighteen  and 
sevenpence,  being  the  amount  of  the  collector's  salary  for 
the  period  of  his  absence  from  his  post  during  the  preva- 
lence of  the  yellow  fever  on  the  coast.  The  honorable 
member  knew  a  gentleman,  whose  name  he  was  unwilling 
to  mention  publicly,  but  would  have  much  pleasure  in  com- 
municating confidentially  to  any  honorable  gentleman  on 
either  side  of  the  House,  who  had  passed  several  days  at 
Haccamana,  and  never  was  attacked  by  anj^  form  of  yellow 
fever.'  That  was  a  home-thrust,  eh?"  cried  the  reader, 
addressing  Tony.  "  Not  such  an  easy  thing  to  answer  old 
Scrudge  there?" 

"I'm  a  poor  opinion  on  such  matters,"  said  Tony,  with 
humility ;  "  but  pray  tell  me,  if  I  were  to  call  at  Park 
Lane  —  " 

The  remainder  of  his  question  was  interrupted  by  the 
sudden  start  to  his  legs  of  the  austere  porter,  as  an  effemi- 
nate-looking young  man  with  his  hat  set  on  one  side,  and  a 
glass  to  his  eye,  swung  wide  the  door,  and  walked  up  to  the 
letter-rack. 


IN  LONDON.  45 

"  Only  these,  Willis  ?"  said  he,  taking  some  half-dozen 
letters  of  various  sizes. 

"  And  this,  sir,"  said  the  porter,  handing  him  Tony's  letter  ; 
''  but  the  young  man  thinks  he  'd  like  to  have  it  back  ;  "  while 
he  added,  in  a  low  but  very  significant  tone,  "he's  going 
to  Park  Lane  with  it  himself." 

The  young  gentleman  turned  round  at  this,  and  took  a 
very  leisurely  survey  of  the  man  who  contemplated  a  step 
of  such  rare  audacity. 

''  He  's  from  Ireland.  Mr.  Damer,"  whispered  the  porter, 
with  a  half-kindly  impulse  to  make  an  apology  for  such 
ignorance. 

Mr.  Damer  smiled  faintly,  and  gave  a  little  nod,  as  though 
to  say  that  the  explanation  was  sufficient ;  and  again  turned 
towards  Tony. 

"  I  take  it  that  you  know  Sir  Harry  Elphinstone?  "  asked 
be. 

"  I  never  saw  him  ;  but  he  knew  my  father  very  well,  and 
he  '11  remember  my  name." 

"  Knew  your  father?  And  in  what  capacity,  may  I 
ask  ?  " 

"  In  what  capacity?  "  repeated  Tony,  almost  fiercely. 

"  Yes  ;  I  mean,  as  what  —  on  what  relations  did  they  stand 
to  each  other  ?  " 

"  As  schoolfellows  at  Westminster,  where  he  fagged  to  my 
father ;  in  the  Grenadier  Guards  afterwards,  where  they 
served  together ;  and,  last  of  all,  as  correspondents,  which 
they  were  for  many  years." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  sighed  the  other,  as  though  he  had  read  the 
whole  story,  and  a  very  painful  story  too,  of  change  of 
fortune  and  ruined  condition.  "  But  still,"  continued  he, 
"I'd  scarcely  advise  your  going  to  Park  Lane.  He  don't 
like  it.     None  of  them  like  it ! " 

"  Don't  they?"  said  Tony,  not  even  vaguely  guessing  at 
whose  prejudices  he  was  hinting,  but  feeling  bound  to  say 
something. 

"  No,  they  don't,"  rejoined  Mr.  Damer,  in  a  half -confiden- 
tial way.  "  There  is  such  a  deal  of  it,  —  fellows  who  were 
in  the  same  '  eleven '  at  Oxford,  or  widows  of  tutors,  or 
parties  who  wrote  books,  —  I  think  they  are  the  worst,  but 


46  TONY  BUTLER. 

all  are  bores,  immense  bores !  You  want  to  get  something, 
don't  you  ? " 

Tony  smiled,  as  much  at  the  oddity  of  the  question  as  in 
acquiescence. 

"  I  ask,"  said  the  other,  "  because  you  '11  have  to  come  to 
me :  I  'm  private  secretary,  and  I  give  away  nearly  all  the 
office  patronage.  Come  upstairs ;  "  and  with  this  he  led 
the  way  up  a  very  dirty  staircase  to  a  still  dirtier  corridor, 
off  which  a  variety  of  offices  opened,  the  open  doors  of 
which  displayed  the  officials  in  all  forms  and  attitudes  of 
idleness,  —  some  asleep,  some  reading  newspapers,  some  at 
luncheon,   and  two  were  sparring  with  boxing-gloves. 

"  Sir  Harry  writes  the  whole  night  through,"  said  Mr. 
Damer ;  "that's  the  reason  these  fellows  have  their  own 
time  of  it  now ;  "  and  with  this  bit  of  apology  he  ushered 
Tony  into  a  small  but  comfortably  furnished  room,  with  a 
great  coal-fire  in  the  grate,  though  the  day  was  a  sultry 
one  in  autumn. 

Mr.  Skeffington  Damer's  first  care  was  to  present  himself 
before  a  looking-glass,  and  arrange  his  hair,  his  whiskers, 
and  his  cravat ;  having  done  which,  he  told  Tony  to  be 
seated,  and  threw  himself  into  a  most  comfortably  padded 
arm-chair,  with  a  writing-desk  appended  to  one  side  of  it. 

"I  may  as  well  open  your  letter.  It's  not  marked  pri- 
vate, eh?" 

"Not  marked  private,"  said  Tony,  "but  its  contents  are 
strictly  confidential." 

"  But  it  will  be  in  the  waste-paper  basket  to-morrow 
morning  for  all  that,"  said  Damer,  with  a  pitying  compas- 
sion fo*^  the  other's  innocence.  "  What  is  it  you  are  looking 
for,  —  what  sort  of  thing  ?  " 

"I  scarcely  know,  because  I'm  fit  for  so  little;  they  tell 
me  the  colonies,  Australia  or  New  Zealand,  are  the  places 
for  fellows  like  me." 

"Don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  cried  Damer,  energetically. 
"A  man  with  any  'go'  in  him  can  do  fifty  thousand  times 
better  at  home.  You  go  some  thousand  miles  away  —  for 
what?  to  crush  quartz,  or  hammer  limestone,  or  pump 
water,  or  carry  mud  in  baskets,  at  a  dollar,  two  dollars,  five 
dollars,  if  jou  iike,  a  day,  in  a  country  where  Dillon,  one  of 


IN  LONDON.  47 

our  fellows  that 's  under-secretaiy  there,  writes  me  word  he 
paid  thirty  shillings  for  a  pot  of  Yarmouth  bloaters.  It's  a 
rank  humbug  all  that  about  the  colonies,  —  take  my  word 
for  it !  " 

"But  what  is  there  to  be  done  at  home,  at  least  by  one 
like  me?'* 

"  Scores  of  things.  Go  on  to  the  Exchange,  —  go  in  for 
a  rise,  go  in  for  a  fall.  Take  Peruvian  Twelves  —  they  're 
splendid  —  or  Montezuman  mining  script.  I  did  a  little  in 
Guatemalas  last  week,  and  I  expect  a  capital  return  by  next 
settling-day.  If  you  think  all  this  too  gambling,  get  named 
director  of  a  company.  There 's  the  patent  phosphorus 
blacking,  will  give  fifty  pounds  for  a  respectable  chairman ; 
or  write  a  novel,  —  that 's  the  easiest  thing  in  life,  and  pays 
wonderfully,  —  Herd  and  Dashen  give  a  thousand  down, 
and  double  the  money  for  each  edition ;  and  it 's  a  fellow's 
own  fault  if  it  ain't  a  success.  Then  there  's  patent  medi- 
cine and  scene-painting,  —  any  one  can  paint  a  scene,  all 
done  with  a  great  brush  —  this  fashion ;  and  you  get  up  to 
fifteen,  ay,  twenty  pounds  a  week.  By  the  way,  are  you 
active  ?  " 

"  Tolerably  so.  Why  do  you  ask?"  said  Tony,  smiling 
at  the  impetuous  incoherence  of  the  other's  talk. 

'*  Just  hold  up  this  newspaper  —  so  —  not  so  high  —  there. 
Don't  move;  a  very  little  to  the  right."  So  saying,  Mr. 
Damer  took  three  sofa-cushions,  and  placed  them  in  a  line 
on  the  floor ;  and  then,  taking  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat, 
retired  to  a  distant  corner  of  the  room.  "Be  steady,  now; 
don't  move,"  cried  he  ;  and  then,  with  a  brisk  run,  he  dashed 
forward,  and  leaped  head-foremost  through  the  extended 
newspaper,  but  with  so  vigorous  a  spring  as  to  alight  on  the 
floor  a  considerable  distance  in  advance  of  the  cushions,  so 
that  he  arose  with  a  bump  on  his  forehead,  and  his  nose 
bleeding. 

"  Admirably  done  !  splendidly  done  !  "  cried  Tony,  anxious 
to  cover  the  disaster  by  a  well-timed  applause. 

"  I  never  got  so  much  as  a  scratch  before,"  said  Damer,  as 
he  proceeded  to  sponge  his  face.  "  I  've  done  the  clock  and 
the  coach-window  at  the  Adelphi,  and  they  all  thought  it  was 
Salter.     I  could  have  five  pounds  a  night  and  a  free  benefit. 


48  TONY  BUTLER. 

Is  it  growing  black  around  the  eye  ?  I  hope  it 's  not  growing 
black  around  the  eye?" 

"  Let  me  bathe  it  for  you.  By  the  way,  have  you  an}^  one 
here  could  manage  to  get  you  a  little  newly  baked  dough? 
That's  the  boxer's  remedy  for  a  bruise.  If  I  knew  where  to 
go,  I'd  fetch  it  myself." 

Damer  looked  up  from  his  bathing  proceedings,  and  stared 
at  the  good-natured  readiness  of  one  so  willing  to  oblige  as 
not  to  think  of  the  ridicule  that  might  attach  to  his  kindness. 
''My  servant  will  go  for  it,"  said  he;  '•  just  pull  that  bell, 
will  you,  and  I  '11  send  him.  Is  not  it  strange  how  I  could 
have  done  tliis?"  continued  he,  still  bent  on  explaining 
away  his  failure;  "what  a  nose  I  shall  have  to-morrow! 
Eh!  what's  that?  It's  Sir  Harry's  bell  ringing  away  furl- 
ousl}^ !  Was  there  ever  the  like  of  this  !  The  only  day  he 
should  have  come  for  the  last  eight  months  !  "  The  bell  now 
continued  to  ring  violently,  and  Damer  had  nothing  for  it 
but  to  huddle  on  his  coat  and  rush  away  to  answer  the 
summons. 

Though  not  more  than  ten  minutes  absent,  Tony  thought 
the  time  very  long ;  in  reality  he  felt  anxious  about  the  poor 
fellow,  and  eager  to  know  that  his  disaster  had  not  led  to 
disgrace. 

"  Never  so  much  as  noticed  it,"  said  Damer,  —  "  was  so 
full  of  other  matters.  I  suspect,"  added  he,  in  a  lower  tone, 
—  "I  suspect  we  are  going  out." 

"  Out  where?"  asked  Tony,  with  simplicity. 

"Out  of  office,  out  of  power,"  replied  the  other,  half 
testily;  then  added  in  a  more  conciliatory  voice,  "I'll  tell 
you  why  I  think  so.  He  began  filling  up  all  the  things  that 
are  vacant.  I  have  just  named  two  colonial  secretaries,  a 
chief  justice,  an  auditor-general,  and  an  inspector  of  con- 
victs. I  thought  of  that  for  you^  and  handed  him  your 
letter;  but  before  he  broke  the  seal  he  had  filled  up  the 
place." 

"  So  then  he  has  read  the  letter?  " 

"Yes,  he  read  it  twice;  and  when  I  told  him  you  were 
here  in  waiting,  he  said,  '  Tell  him  not  to  go ;  I  '11  see 
him.'" 

The  thought  of  oresenting  himself  bodily  before  the  great 


IN  LONDON.  49 

man  made  Tony  feel  nervous  and  uncomfortable ;  and  after 
a  few  moments  of  fidgety  uneasiness,  he  said,  *'AYhat  sort 
of  person  is  he,  — what  is  he  like?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Danier,  who  now  stood  over  a  basin,  spong- 
ing his  eye  with  cold  water,  "he's  shy  —  very  shy  —  but 
you  'd  never  guess  it;  for  he  has  a  bold,  abrupt  sort  of  way 
with  him  ;  and  he  constantly  answers  his  own  questions,  and 
if  the  replies  displease  him,  he  grows  irritable.  You  've  seen 
men  like  that  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  have." 

'^Then  it's  downright  impossible  to  say  when  he's  in 
good  humor  with  one,  for  he  '11  stop  short  in  a  laugh  and 
give  you  such  a  pull  up !  " 

"  That  is  dreadful !  "  exclaimed  Tony. 

"  I  can  manage  him  !  They  say  in  the  office  I  'm  the  only 
fellow  that  ever  could  manage  him.  There  goes  his  bell,  — 
that's  for  j^ou;  wait  here,  however,  till  I  come  back." 

Damer  hurried  away,  UiY  was  back  in  a  moment,  and 
beckoned  to  Tony  to  follow  him,  which  he  did  in  a  state  of 
flurry  and  anxiety  that  a  real  peril  would  never  have  caused 
him. 

Tony  found  himself  standing  in  the  Minister's  presence, 
where  he  remained  for  full  a  couple  of  minutes  before  the 
great  man  lifted  his  head  and  ceased  writing.  "  Sit  down," 
was  the  first  salutation  ;  and  as  he  took  a  chair,  he  had 
time  to  remark  the  stern  but  handsome  features  of  a  large 
man,  somewhat  past  the  prime  of  life,  and  showing  in  the 
lines  of  his  face  traces  of  dissipation  as  well  as  of  labor. 

"Are  you  the  son  of  Watty  Butler?"  asked  he,  as  he 
wheeled  his  chair  from  the  table  and  confronted  Tony. 

"  ^[y  father's  name  was  Walter,  sir,"  replied  Tony,  not 
altogether  without  resenting  this  tone  of  alluding  to  him. 

"Walter!  nothing  of  the  kind;  nobody  ever  called  him 
anything  but  Watty,  or  Wat  Tartar,  in  the  regiment.  Poor 
Watty  !  you  are  very  like  him, —  not  so  large, —  not  so  tall." 

"  Tiie  same  height  to  a  hair,  sir." 

"  Don't  tell  me  ;  Watty  was  an  inch  and  a  half  over  you, 
and  much  broader  in  the  chest.  I  think  I  ought  to  know ; 
he  has  thrown  me  scores  of  times  wrestling,  and  I  suspect  it 
would  puzzle  you  to  do  it." 

4 


50  TONY  BUTLER. 

Tony's  face  flushed ;  he  made  no  answer,  but  in  his  heart 
of  hearts  he  'd  like  to  have  had  a  trial. 

Perhaps  the  great  man  expected  some  confirmation  of  his 
opinion,  or  perhaps  he  had  his  own  doubts  about  its  sound- 
ness ;  but,  whatever  the  reason,  his  voice  was  more  peevish 
as  he  said :  "  I  have  read  your  mother's  note,  but  for  the  life 
of  me  I  cannot  see  what  it  points  to.  What  has  become  of 
your  fatl^er's  fortune?     He  had  something,  surely." 

*' Yes,  sir,  he  had  a  younger  son's  portion,  but  he  risked 
it  in  a  speculation  —  some  mines  in  Canada  —  and  lost  it." 

"Ay,  and  dipped  it  too  by  extravagance!  There's  no 
need  to  tell  me  how  he  lived ;  there  w^as  n't  so  wasteful  a 
fellow  in  the  regiment;  he'd  have  exactly  what  he  pleased, 
and  spend  how  he  liked.  And  what  has  it  come  to?  ay, 
that 's  what  I  ask,  —  what  has  it  come  to?  His  wife  comes 
here  with  this  petition  —  for  it  is  a  petition  —  asking  —  I  '11 
be  shot  if  1  know  what  she  asks." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you,"  burst  in  Tony;  "  she  asks  the  old 
brother-officer  of  her  husband  —  the  man  who  in  his  letters 
called  himself  his  brother  —  to  befriend  his  son,  and  there 's 
nothing  like  a  petition  in  the  whole  of  it." 

*'What!  what!  what!  This  is  something  I 'm  not  accus- 
tomed to !  You  want  to  make  friends,  young  man,  and  you 
must  not  begin  b}^  outraging  the  very  few  who  might  chance 
to  be  well  disposed  towards  you." 

Tony  stood  abashed  and  overwhelmed,  his  cheeks  on  fire 
with  shame,  but  he  never  uttered  a  word. 

"  I  have  very  little  patronage,"  said  Sir  Harry,  drawing 
himself  up  and  speaking  in  a  cold,  measured  tone;  "the 
colonies  appoint  their  own  officials,  with  a  verj"  few  excep- 
tions. I  could  make  you  a  bishop  or  an  attorney-general, 
but  I  could  .n't  make  you  a  tide-waiter  !  What  can  you  do? 
Do  you  write  a  good  hand?" 

"  No,  sir ;  it  is  legible,  —  that 's  all." 

"  And  of  course  you  know  nothing  of  French  or  German?  " 

*'  A  little  French  ;   not  a  word  of  German,  sir.  ' 

"I'd  be  surprised  if  you  did.  It  is  alwa^^s  when  a  fel- 
low has  utterly  neglected  his  education  that  he  comes  to  a 
Government  for  a  place.  The  belief  apparently  is  that  the 
State  supports  a  large  institution  of  incapables,  eh?  " 


IN  LONDON.  51 

*' Perhaps  there  is  that  impression  abroad,"  said  Tony, 
defiantly. 

"  Well,  sir,  the  impression,  as  you  phrase  it,  is  unfounded, 
I  can  affirm.  I  have  already  declared  it  in  the  House,  that 
there  is  not  a  government  in  Europe  more  ably,  more  hon- 
estly, or  more  zealously  served  than  our  own.  We  may  not 
have  the  spirit  of  discipline  of  the  French,  or  the  bureau- 
cracy of  the  Prussian ;  but  we  have  a  class  of  officials 
proud  of  the  departments  they  administer;  and,  let  me 
tell  you,  —  it's  no  small  matter, — very  keen  after  retiring 
pensions." 

Either  Sir  Harry  thought  he  had  said  a  smart  thing,  or 
that  the  theme  suggested  something  that  tickled  his  fancy, 
for  he  smiled  pleasantly  now  on  Tony,  and  looked  far  bet- 
ter tempered  than  before.  Indeed,  Tony  laughed  at  the 
abrupt  peroration,  and  that  laugh  did  him  no  disservice. 

"Well,  now,  Butler,  what  are  we  to  do  with  you?" 
resumed  the  Minister,  good-humoredly.  "  It's  not  easy  to 
find  the  right  thing,  but  I  '11  talk  it  over  with  Damer.  Give 
him  your  address,  and  drop  in  upon  him  occasionally,  —  not 
too  often,  but  now  and  then,  so  that  he  should  n't  forget 
you.  Meanwhile  brush  up  your  French  and  Italian.  I  'm 
glad  you  know  Italian." 

''But  I  do  not,   sir;    not  a  syllable  of  the  language." 

"  Oh,  it  was  German,  then?  Don't  interrupt  me.  Indeed, 
let  me  take  the  occasion  to  impress  upon  you  that  you  have 
this  great  fault  of  manners,  —  a  fault  I  have  remarked 
prevalent  among  Irishmen,  and  which  renders  them  exces- 
sively troublesome  in  the  House,  and  brings  them  frequently 
under  the  reproof  of  the  Speaker.  If  you  read  the  news- 
papers, you  will  have  seen  this  yourself." 

Second  to  a  censure  of  himself,  the  severest  thing  for 
poor  Tony  to  endure  was  any  sneer  at  his  countrymen ;  but 
he  made  a  great  effort  to  remain  patient,  and  did  not  utter 
a  word. 

"  Mind,"  resumed  the  Minister,  "  don't  misunderstand  me. 
I  do  not  say  that  your  countr3^men  are  deficient  in  quick- 
ness and  a  certain  ready-witted  way  of  meeting  emergen- 
cies. Yes,  they  have  that  as  well  as  some  other  qualities 
of  the  same  order  ;   but  these  things  won't  make  statesmen. 


52  TONY  BUTLER. 

This  was  an  old  battle-ground  between  your  father  and  my- 
self thirty  years  ago.  Strange  to  think  I  should  have  to 
fight  over  the  same  question  with  his  son  now." 

Tony  did  not  exactly  perceive  what  was  his  share  in  the 
conflict,  but  he  still  kept  silence. 

"  Your  father  was  a  clever  fellow,  too,  and  he  had  a 
brother,  —  a  much  cleverer,  by  the  way ;  there  's  the  man  to 
serve  you,  —  Sir  Omerod  Butler.  He 's  alive,  I  know,  for 
I  saw  his  pension  certificate  not  a  week  ago.  Have  you 
written  to  him  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  My  father  and  my  uncle  were  not  on  speaking 
terms  for  years,  and  it  is  not  likely  I  would  appeal  to 
Sir  Omerod  for  assistance." 

"  The  quarrel,  or  coolness,  or  whatever  it  was,  might 
have  been  the  fault  of  your  father." 

"No,  sir,  it  was  not." 

"  Well,  with  that  I  have  no  concern.  All  that  I  know 
is,  your  uncle  is  a  man  of  a  certain  influence  —  at  least  with 
his  own  party  —  which  is  not  ours.  He  is,  besides,  rich ; 
an  old  bachelor,  too,  if  I  'm  not  mistaken ;  and  so  it  might 
be  worth  the  while  of  a  young  fellow  who  has  his  way  to 
make  in  life,  to  compromise  a  little  of  his  family  pride." 

"  I  don't  think  so:  I  won't  do  it,"  broke  in  Tony,  hotly. 
*'  If  you  have  no  other  counsel  to  give  me  than  one  you 
never  would  have  given  to  my  father,  all  I  have  to  say  is, 
I  wish  I  had  spared  myself  the  trouble,  and  my  poor  mother 
the  cost  of  this  journey." 

If  the  great  man's  wrath  was  moved  by  the  insolent 
boldness  of  the  first  part  of  this  speech,  the  vibrating  voice 
and  the  emotion  that  accompanied  the  last  words  touched 
him,  and,  going  over  to  where  the  young  man  stood,  he 
laid  his  hand  kinctly  on  his  shoulder,  and  said:  "You'll 
have  to  keep  this  warm  temper  of  yours  in  more  subjec- 
tion, Butler,  if  you  want  to  get  on  in  life.  The  advice  I 
gave  you  was  very  worldly,  perhaps ;  but  when  you  live 
to  be  my  age,  such  will  be  the  temper  in  which  you  '11 
come  to  consid<ar  most  things.  And,  after  all,"  said  he, 
with  a  smile,  "you're  only  the  more  like  your  father  for 
it !  Go  away  now ;  look  up  your  decimals,  your  school 
classics,   and  such  like,   to  be  ready  for  the  Civil  Service 


IN  LONDON.  63 

people,  and  come  back  here  in  a  week  or  so,  —  let  Darner 
know  where  to  find  you,"  were  the  last  words,  as  Tony 
reth-ed  and  left  the  room. 

"Well,  what  success?"  cried  Darner,  as  Tony  entered 
his  room. 

''I  can  scarcely  tell  you,  but  this  is  what  took  place;" 
and  he  recounted,  as  well  as  memory  would  serve  him,  all 
that  had  happened. 

"  Then  it 's  all  right,  —  you  are  quite  safe,"  said  Damer. 

"  1  don't  see  that,  particularly  as  there  remains  this 
examination." 

"Humbug,  —  nothing  but  humbug!  They  only  pluck 
the  '  swells,'  the  fellows  who  have  taken  a  double-first  at 
Oxford.  No,  no ;  you  're  as  safe  as  a  church ;  you  '11  get 
—  let  me  see  what  it  will  be  —  you'll  get  the  Postmaster- 
ship  of  the  Bahamas ;  or  be  Deputy  Coal-meter  at  St. 
Helena ;  or  who  knows  if  h6  '11  not  give  you  that  thing 
he  exchanged  for  t'other  day  with  F.  O.  It's  a  Consul's 
place,  at  Trincolopolis.  It  was  Cole  of  the  Blues  had  it,  and 
he  died ;  and  there  are  four  widows  of  his  now  claiming  the 
pension.  Yes,  that 's  where  you  'II  go,  rely  on  't.  There  's 
the  bell  again.  Write  your  address  large,  very  large,  on 
that  sheet  of  paper,  and  I'll  send  you  word  when  there's 
anything  up." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DOLLY     STEWART. 

Tony's  first  care,  when  he  got  back  to  his  hotel,  was  to  write 
to  his  mother.  He  knew  how  great  her  impatience  would 
be  to  hear  of  him,  and  it  was  a  sort  of  comfort  to  himself, 
in  his  loneliness,  to  sit  down  and  pour  out  his  hopes  and  his 
anxieties  before  one  who  loved  him.  He  told  her  of  his 
meeting  with  the  Minister,  and,  by  way  of  encouragement, 
mentioned  what  Damer  had  pronounced  upon  that  event. 
Nor  did  he  forget  to  say  how  grateful  he  felt  to  Damer,  who, 
"after  all,  with  his  fine-gentleman  airs  and  graces,  might 
readily  have  turned  a  cold  shoulder  to  a  rough-looking  fellow 
like  me." 

Poor  Tony!  in  his  friendlessness  he  was  very  grateful  for 
very  little.  Nor  is  there  anything  which  is  more  character- 
istic of  destitution  than  this  sentiment.  It  is  as  with  the 
schoolboy,  who  deems  himself  rich  with  a  half-crown! 

Tony  would  have  liked  much  to  make  some  inquiry  about 
the  family  at  the  Abbey ;  whether  any  one  had  come  to  ask 
after  or  look  for  him ;  whether  Mrs.  Trafford  had  sent  down 
any  books  for  his  mother's  reading,  or  any  fresh  flowers,  — 
the  only  present  which  the  widow  could  be  persuaded  to 
accept ;  but  he  was  afraid  to  touch  on  a  theme  that  had  so 
many  painful  memories  to  himself.  Ah,  what  happy  days 
he  had  passed  there!  What  a  bright  dream  it  all  appeared 
now  to  look  back  on!  The  long  rides  along  the  shore,  with 
Alice  for  his  companion,  more  free  to  talk  with  him,  less 
reserved  than  Isabella;  and  who  could,  on  the  pretext  of 
her  own  experiences  of  life,  — she  was  a  widow  of  two-and- 
twenty,  —  caution  him  against  so  many  pitfalls,  and  guard 
him  against  so  many  deceits  of  the  world.  It  was  in  this 
same  quality  of  widow,  too,  that  she  could  go  out  to  sail 


DOLLY   STEWAKT.  55 

with  him  alone,  making  long  excursions  along  the  coast, 
diving  into  bays,  and  landing  on  strange  islands,  giving 
them  curious  names  as  they  went,  and  fancying  that  they 
were  new  voyagers  on  unknown  seas. 

Were  such  days  ever  to  come  back  again  ?  No,  he  knew 
they  could  not.  They  never  do  come  back,  even  to  the 
luckiest  of  us ;  and  how  far  less  would  be  our  enjoyment 
of  them  if  we  but  knew  that  each  fleeting  moment  could 
never  be  re-acted!  "I  wonder,  is  Alice  lonely?  Does  she 
miss  me?  Isabella  will  not  care  so  much.  She  has  books 
and  her  drawing,  and  she  is  so  self-dependent;  but  Alice, 
whose  cry  was,  'Where's  Tony?'  till  it  became  a  jest 
against  her  in  the  house.  Oh,  if  she  but  knew  how  I  envy 
the  dog  that  lies  at  her  feet,  and  that  can  look  up  into  her 
soft  blue  eyes,  and  wonder  what  she  is  thinking  of!  AVell, 
Alice,  it  has  come  at  last.  Here  is  the  day  you  so  long  pre- 
dicted. I  have  set  out  to  seek  my  fortune;  but  where  is  the 
high  heart  and  the  bold  spirit  you  promised  me?  I  have 
no  doubt,"  cried  he,  as  he  paced  his  room  impatiently, 
"there  are  plenty  who  would  say,  it  is  the  life  of  luxurious 
indolence  and  splendor  that  I  am  sorrowing  after;  that  it 
is  to  be  a  fancied  great  man, —  to  have  horses  to  ride,  and 
servants  to  wait  on  me,  and  my  every  wish  gratified,  —  it  is 
all  this  I  am  regretting.  But  /  know  better!  I  'd  be  as 
poor  as  ever  I  was,  and  consent  never  to  be  better,  if  she  'd 
just  let  me  see  her,  and  be  with  her,  and  love  her,  to  my  own 
heart,  without  ever  telling  her.  And  now  the  day  has  come 
that  makes  all  these  bygones !  " 

It  was  with  a  choking  feeling  in  his  throat,  almost 
hysterical,  that  he  went  downstairs  and  into  the  street  to 
try  and  walk  off  his  gloomy  humor.  The  great  city  was 
now  before  him,  —  a  very  wide  and  a  very  noisy  world,  — 
with  abundance  to  interest  and  attract  him,  had  his  mind 
been  less  intent  on  his  own  future  fortunes;  but  he  felt  that 
every  hour  he  was  away  from  his  poor  mother  was  a  pang, 
and  every  shilling  he  should  spend  would  be  a  privation  to 
her.  Heaven  only  could  tell  by  what  thrift  and  care  and 
time  she  had  laid  by  the  few  pounds  he  had  carried  away  to 
pay  his  journey!  As  his  eye  fell  upon  the  tempting  ol)jects 
of  the  shop-windows,  every  moment  displaying  something 


56  TONY  BUTLER. 

he  would  like  to  have  brought  back  to  her,  —  that  nice 
warm  shawl,  that  pretty  clock  for  her  mautelpiece,  that 
little  vase  for  her  flowers;  how  he  despised  himself  for  his 
poverty,  and  how  meanly  the  thought  of  a  condition  that 
made  him  a  burden  where  he  ought  to  have  been  a  benefit! 
Nor  was  the  thought  the  less  bitter  that  it  reminded  him  of 
the  wide  space  that  separated  him  from  her  he  had  dared  to 
love!  "It  comes  to  this,"  cried  he  bitterly  to  himself, 
"that  I  have  no  right  to  be  here;  no  right  to  do  anything, 
or  think  of  anything  that  I  have  done.  Of  the  thousands 
that  pass  me,  there  is  not,  perhaps,  one  the  world  has  not 
more  need  of  than  of  me!  Is  there  even  one  of  all  this 
mighty  million  that  would  have  a  kind  word  for  me,  if  they 
knew  the  heavy  heart  that  was  weighing  me  down?"  At 
this  minute  he  suddenly  thought  of  Dolly  Stewart,  the  doc- 
tor's daughter,  whose  address  he  had  carefully  taken  down 
from  his  mother,  at  Mr.  Alexander  M'Gruder's,  4  Inver- 
ness Terrace,  Richmond. 

It  would  be  a  real  pleasure  to  see  Dolly's  good-humored 
face,  and  hear  her  merry  voice,  instead  of  those  heavy 
looks  and  busy  faces  that  addled  and  confused  him;  and 
so,  as  much  to  fill  up  his  time  as  to  spare  his  purse,  he  set 
out  to  walk  to  Richmond. 

With  whatever  gloom  and  depression  he  began  his  journey, 
his  spirits  rose  as  he  gained  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and 
rose  higher  and  higher  as  he  felt  the  cheering  breezes  and 
the  perfumed  air  that  swept  over  the  rich  meadows  at  either 
side  of  him.  It  was,  besides,  such  a  luxuriant  aspect  of 
country  as  he  had  never  before  seen  nor  imagined,  —  fields 
cultivated  like  gardens,  trim  hedgerows,  ornamental  trees, 
picturesque  villas  on  every  hand.  How  beautiful  it  all 
seemed,  and  how  happy!  Was  not  Dolh^  a  lucky  girl  to 
have  her  lot  thrown  in  such  a  paradise?  How  enjoyable  she 
must  find  it  all!  —  she  whose  good  spirits  knew  always  how 
"to  take  the  most  out  of"  whatever  was  pleasant.  How  he 
pictured  her  delight  in  a  scene  of  such  loveliness! 

"That's  Inverness  Terrace,  yonder,"  said  a  policeman 
of  whom  he  inquired  the  way,  —  "that  range  of  small  houses 
you  see  there;"  and  he  pointed  to  a  trim-looking  row  of 
cottage-houses   on  a   sort  of   artificial   embankment  which 


DOLLY   STEWART.  67 

elevated  them  above  the  surroimdiug  buildings,  aud  gave  a 
view  of  the  Thames  as  it  Avound  through  the  rich  meadows 
beneath.  They  were  neat  with  that  English  neatness  which 
at  once  pleases  aud  shocks  a  foreign  eye,  —  the  trim  pro- 
priety that  loves  comfort,  but  has  no  heart  for  beauty. 
Thus,  each  was  like  his  neighbor.  The  very  jalousies  were 
painted  the  same  color;  and  every  ranunculus  in  one  garden 
had  his  brother  in  the  next.  No.  4  was  soon  found,  and 
Tony  rang  the  bell  and  inquired  for  Miss  Stewart. 

"She  's  in  the  school-room  with  the  young  ladies,"  said 
the  woman  servant;  "but  if  you  '11  step  in  aud  tell  me  3'our 
name,  I  '11  send  her  to  you." 

"Just  say  that  I  have  come  from  her  own  neighborhood; 
or,  better,  say  Mr.  Tony  Butler  would  be  glad  to  see  her." 
He  had  scarcely  been  a  moment  in  the  neat  but  formal- 
looking  front  parlor,  when  a  very  tall,  thin,  somewhat 
severe-looking  lady  —  not  old,  nor  yet  young  —  entered, 
and  without  any  salutation  said,  "You  asked  for  Miss 
Stewart,  sir,  — are  you  a  relative  of  hers?  " 

"No,  madam.  My  mother  and  Miss  Stewart's  father  are 
neighbors  and  very  old  friends ;  and  being  by  accident  in 
Loudon,  I  desired  to  see  her,  and  bring  back  news  of  her  to 
the  doctor." 

"At  her  father's  request,  of  course?" 

"No,  madam;  I  caunot  say  so,  for  I  left  home  suddenly, 
and  had  no  time  to  tell  him  of  my  journey." 

"Nor  any  letter  from  him?" 

"None,  madam." 

The  thin  lady  pursed  up  her  parched  lips,  and  bent  her 
keen  cold  eyes  on  the  youth,  who  really  felt  his  cheek  grow 
hot  under  the  scrutiny.  He  knew  that  his  confession  did 
not  serve  to  confirm  his  position;  and  he  heartily  wished 
himself  out  of  the  house  again. 

"I  think,  then,  sir,"  said  she,  coldly,  "it  will  serve  every 
purpose  if  I  inform  you  that  Miss  Stewart  is  well ;  and  if  I 
tell  her  that  you  were  kind  enough  to  call  and  ask  after 
her." 

"I'm  sure  you  are  right,  madam,"  said  he,  hurriedly 
moving  towards  the  door,  for  already  he  felt  as  if  the 
ground  was  on  fire  beneath  him,  —  "quite  right;  and  I  '11 


58  TONY  BUTLER. 

tell  the  doctor  that  though  I  did  n't  see  Miss  Dora,  she  was 
in  good  health,  and  very  happy." 

"I  did  n't  say  anything  about  her  happiness,  that  I  re- 
member, sir;  but  as  I  see  her  now  passing  the  door,  I  may 
leave  that  matter  to  come  from  her  own  lips.  Miss 
Stewart,"  cried  she,  louder,  "there  is  a  gentleman  here,  who 
has  come  to  inquire  after  you."  A  very  pale  but  nicely 
featured  young  girl,  wearing  a  cap,  —  her  hair  had  been 
lately  cut  short  in  a  fever,  —  entered  the  room,  and,  with  a 
sudden  flush  that  made  her  positively  handsome,  held  out 
her  hand  to  young  Butler,  saying,  "Oh,  Tony,  1  never 
expected  to  see  you  here !  how  are  all  at  home  ?  " 

Too  much  shocked  at  the  change  in  her  appearance  to 
speak,  Tony  could  only  mumble  out  a  few  broken  words 
about  her  father. 

"Yes,"  cried  she,  eagerly,  "his  last  letter  says  that  he 
rides  old  Dobbin  about  just  as  well  as  ever;  '  perhaps  it  is,' 
says  he,  '  that  having  both  of  us  grown  old  together,  we 
bear  our  years  with  more  tolerance  to  each  other; '  but  won't 
you  sit  down,  Tony?  you're  not  going  away  till  I  have 
talked  a  little  with  you." 

"Is  the  music  lesson  finished.  Miss  Stewart?"  asked  the 
thin  lady,  sternly. 

"Y"es,  ma'am;  we  have  done  everything  but  sacred 
history." 

"P^ver^^thing  but  the  one  important  task,  you  might  have 
said.  Miss  Stewart;  but,  perhaps,  you  are  not  now  exactly 
in  the  temperament  to  resume  teaching  for  to-day ;  and  as 
this  young  gentleman's  mission  is  apparently  to  report,  not 
only  on  your  health  but  your  happiness,  I  shall  leave  you 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  give  him  his  instructions." 

"I  hate  that  woman,"  muttered  Tou}^,  as  the  door  closed 
after  her. 

"No,  Tony,  she's  not  unkind;  but  she  doesn't  exactly 
see  the  world  the  way  j^ou  and  I  used  long  ago.  What  a 
great  big  man  3^ou  have  grown!" 

"And  what  a  fine  tall  girl,  you!  And  I  used  to  call  you 
a  stump !  " 

"Ay,  there  were  few  compliments  wasted  between  us  in 
those  days ;  but  were  n't  they  happy?  " 


DOLLY   STEWART.  69 

"Do  you  remember  them  all,  Dolly?  " 

"Every  one  of  them, — the  climbing  the  big  cherry-tree 
the  day  the  branch  broke,  and  we  both  fell  into  the  melon- 
bed  ;  the  hunting  for  eels  under  the  stones  in  the  river,  — 
was  n't  that  rare  sport?  and  going  out  to  sea  in  that  leaky 
little  boat  that  I  'd  not  have  courage  to  cross  the  Thames  in 
now!  — oh,  Tony,  tell  me,  you  never  were  so  jolly  since?" 

"I  don't  think  I  was;  and  what 's  worse,  Dolly,  I  doubt 
if  I  ever  shall  be." 

The  tone  of  deep  despondency  of  these  words  went  to  her 
heart,  and  her  lip  trembled,  as  she  said,  — 

"Have  you  had  any  bad  news  of  late?  is  there  anything 
going  wrong  with  you  ?  " 

"No,  Dolly,  nothing  new,  nothing  strange,  nothing  bej^ond 
the  fact  that  I  have  been  staring  at,  though  I  did  not  see 
it  three  years  back,  that  I  am  a  great  hulking  idle  dog,  of 
no  earthly  use  to  himself  or  to  anybody  else.  However,  I 
have  opened  my  eyes  to  it  at  last;  and  here  I  am,  come  to 
seek  my  fortune,  as  we  used  to  say  long  ago,  which,  after 
all,  seems  a  far  nicer  thing  in  a  fairy  book  than  when 
reduced  to  a  fact." 

Doll}"  gave  a  little  short  couglr,  to  cover  a  faint  sigh 
which  escaped  her;  for  she,  too,  knew  something  about 
seeking  her  fortune,  and  that  the  search  was  not  always  a 
success. 

"And  what  are  you  thinking  of  doing,  Tony?  "  asked  she, 
eagerly. 

"Like  all  lazy  good-for-nothings,  I  begin  by  begging; 
that  is  to  say,  I  have  been  to  a  great  man  this  morning  who 
knew  my  father,  to  ask  him  to  give  me  something, —  to  make 
me  something." 

"A  soldier,  I  suppose?" 

"No;  mother  won't  listen  to  that.  She  's  so  indignant 
about  the  way  they  treated  my  poor  father  about  that  good- 
service  pension,  —  one  of  a  race  that  has  been  pouring  out 
their  blood  like  water  for  three  centuries  back,  —  that  she 
says  she  'd  not  let  me  accept  a  commission  if  it  were  offered 
to  me,  without  it  came  coupled  with  a  full  apology  for  the 
wrong  done  my  father;  and  as  I  am  too  old  for  the  navy, 
and  too  ignorant  for  most  other  things,  it  will  push  all  the 


60  TONY  BUTLER. 

great  man's  ingenuity  very  close  to  find  out  the  corner  to 
suit  me.*' 

''They  talk  a  deal  about  Australia,  Tony;  and,  indeed, 
I  sometimes  think  I  'd  like  to  go  there  myself.  I  read  in 
the  '  Times  '  t'  other  day  that  a  dairy-maid  got  as  much  as 
forty-six  pounds  a-year  and  her  board ;  only  fancy,  forty-six 
pounds  a-year!  Do  you  know,"  added  she,  in  a  cautious 
whisper,  "  I  have  only  eighteen  pounds  here,  and  was  in  rare 
luck  too,  they  say,  to  get  it." 

"What  if  we  were  to  set  out  together,  Dolly?"  said  he, 
laughing;  but  a  deep  scarlet  flush  covered  her  face,  and 
though  she  tried  to  laugh  too,  she  had  to  turn  her  head 
away,  for  the  tears  were  in  her  eyes. 

"But  how  could  you  turn  dairymaid,  Dolly?"  cried  he, 
half  reproachfully. 

"Just  as  well,  or  rather  better,  than  you  turn  shepherd 
or  gold-digger.  As  to  mere  labor,  it  would  be  nothing;  as 
to  any  loss  of  condition,  I  'd  not  feel  it,  and  therefore  not 
suffer  it." 

"Oh,  1  have  no  snobbery  myself  about  working  with  my 
hands,"  added  he,  hastily.  "Heaven  help  me  if  I  had,  for 
my  head  would  n't  keep  me;  but  a  girl's  bringing  up  is  so 
different  from  a  boy's;  she  oughtn't  to  do  anything  menial 
out  of  her  own  home." 

"We  ought  all  of  us  just  to  do  our  best,  Tony,  and  what 
leaves  us  less  of  a  burden  to  others,  —  that 's  my  reading  of 
it;  and  when  we  do  that,  we  '11  have  a  quiet  conscience,  and 
that 's  something  that  many  a  rich  man  could  n't  buy  with 
all  his  money." 

"I  think  it's  the  time  for  the  children's  dinner.  Miss 
Stewart,"  said  the  grim  lady,  entering.  "I  am  sorry  it 
should  cut  short  an  interview  so  interesting." 

A  half -angry  reply  rose  to  Tony's  lips,  when  a  look  from 
Dora  stopped  him,  and  he  stammered  out,  "May  1  call  and 
see  you  again  before  I  go  back?  " 

"When  do  you  go  back,  young  gentlema.n?"  asked  the 
thin  lady. 

"That 's  more  than  I  can  tell.  This  week  if  I  can;  next 
week  if  I  must." 

"If  you '11  write  me  a  line,  then,  and  say  what  day  it 


DOLLY   STEWART.  61 

would  be  your  convenience  to  come  down  here,  I  will  reply, 
and  state  whether  it  will  be  Miss  Stewart's  and  mine  to 
receive  you." 

"Come,  at  all  events,"  said  Dora,  in  a  low  voice,  as  they 
shook  hands  and  parted. 

''Poor  Dolly!  "  muttered  he,  as  he  went  his  way  towards 
town.  "What  between  the  pale  cheeks  and  the  cropped 
hair  and  the  odious  cap,  I  'd  never  have  known  her !  "  He 
suddenly  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps  behind  him,  and, 
turning,  he  saw  her  running  towards  him  at  full  speed. 

"You  had  forgotten  your  cane,  Tony,"  said  she,  half 
breathless,  "'  and  1  knew  it  w^as  an  old  favorite  of  yours,  and 
you'd  be  sorry  to  think  it  was  lost.  Tell  me  one  thing," 
cried  she,  and  her  cheek  flushed  even  a  deeper  hue  than  the 
exercise  had  given  it;  "could  you  —  would  you  be  a  clerk — ■ 
in  a  merchant's  office,  I  mean?" 

"Why  do  you  ask  me,  Dolly?  "  said  he;  for  her  eager  and 
anxious  face  directed  all  his  solicitude  from  himself  to  her. 

"If  you  only  would  and  could,  Tony,"  continued  she, 
"write.  No;  make  papa  write  me  a  line  to  say  so.  There, 
I  have  no  time  for  more;  I  have  already  done  enough  to 
secure  me  a  rare  lesson  when  I  get  back.  Don't  come  here 
again.'' 

She  was  gone  before  he  could  answer  her;  and  with  a 
heavier  heart  and  a  very  puzzled  head,  he  resumed  his  road 
to  London,  "Don't  come  here  again  "  ringing  in  his  head  as 
he  went. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

LYLE    ABBEY    AND    ITS    GUESTS. 

The  company  at  Lyle  Abbey  saw  very  little  of  Maitland 
for  some  days  after  his  arrival.  He  never  appeared  of  a 
morning;  he  only  once  came  down  to  dinner;  his  pretext  was 
indifferent  health,  and  Mark  showed  a  disposition  to  quarrel 
with  any  one  who  disputed  it.  Not,  indeed,  that  the  squire- 
archy then  present  were  at  all  disposed  to  regret  Maitland's 
absence.  They  would  infinitely  rather  have  discussed  his 
peculiarities  in  secret  committee  than  meet  himself  in  open 
debate.  It  was  not  very  easy  to  say  why  they  did  not  like 
him,  but  such  was  the  fact.  It  was  not  that  he  overbore 
them  by  an^^  species  of  assumption ;  he  neither  took  on  him 
airs  of  superior  station  nor  of  superior  knowledge;  he  was 
neither  insolent  nor  haughty;  nor  was  he  even,  what  some- 
times is  not  less  resented,  careless  and  indifferent.  His 
manner  was  a  sort  of  middle  term  between  popularity- 
seeking  and  inattention.  The  most  marked  trait  in  it  was 
one  common  enough  in  persons  who  have  lived  much  on 
the  Continent,  — a  great  preference  for  the  society  of  ladies 
making  him  almost  ignore  or  avoid  the  presence  of  the  men 
around  him.  Not  that  Maitland  was  what  is  called  petit 
7naitre  ;  there  was  not  any  of  that  flippant  prettiness  which 
is  supposed  to  have  its  fascination  for  the  fair  sex-^  he 
was  quiet  without  any  touch  of  over-seriousness,  very 
respectful,  and  at  the  same  time  with  an  insinuated  friend- 
liness as  though  the  person  he  talked  to  was  one  selected 
for  especial  cordiality;  and  there  was  a  sort  of  tender  lan- 
guor too  about  him,  that  implied  some  secret  care  in  his 
heart,  of  which  each  who  listened  to  his  conversation  was 
sure  to  fancy  that  she  was  one  day  to  become  the  chosen 
depositary. 


LYLE   ABBEY   AND   ITS   GUESTS.  63 

*'Do  you  know,  Bella,"  said  Mrs.  Trafiford,  as  they  sat 
together  at  the  fire  in  her  dressing-room,  "I  shall  end  by 
half  liking  him." 

"I  have  n't  got  that  far,  Alice,  though  I  own  that  I  am  less 
in  dread  of  him  than  I  was.  His  superiority  is  not  so 
crushing  as  I  feared  it  might  be ;  and  certainly,  if  he  be  the 
Admirable  Crichton  Mark  pretends  he  is,  he  takes  every 
possible  pains  to  avoid  all  display  of  it." 

''There  may  be  some  impertinence  in  that,"  said  the 
other.  "Did  you  remark  how  he  was  a  week  here  before 
he  as  much  as  owned  he  knew  anything  of  music,  and 
listened  to  our  weary  little  ballads  ever}-  evening  without  a 
word?  and  last  night,  out  of  pure  caprice,  as  it  seemed,  he 
sits  down,  and  sings  song  after  song  of  Verdi's  difficult 
music,  with  a  tenor  that  reminds  one  of  Mario. " 

"And  which  has  quite  convinced  old  Mrs.  Maxwell  that 
he  is  a  professional,  or,  as  she  called  it,  '  a  singing  man.'  " 

"She  would  call  him  a  sketching  man  if  she  saw  the  cari- 
cature he  made  of  herself  in  the  pony  carriage,  which  he 
tore  up  the  moment  he  showed  it  to  me." 

"One  thing  is  clear,  Alice,  —  he  means  that  we  should 
like  him ;  but  he  is  too  clever  to  set  about  it  in  any  vulgar 
spirit  of  captivation." 

"That  is,  he  seeks  regard  for  personal  qualities  rather 
more  than  admiration  for  his  high  gifts  of  intellect.  Well, 
up  to  this,  it  is  his  cleverness  that  I  like." 

"What  puzzles  me  is  why  he  ever  came  here.  He  is 
asked  about  everywhere,  has  all  manner  of  great  houses 
open  to  him,  and  stores  of  fine  people,  of  whose  intimacy 
you  can  see  he  is  proud;  and  yet  he  comes  down  to  a  dull 
country  place  in  a  dull  county;  and,  stranger  than  all,  he 
seems  to  like  it." 

"John  Hunter  says  it  is  debt,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford. 

"Mark  Fortescue  hints  that  a  rich  and  handsome  widow 
has  something  to  say  to  it." 

"Paul  M'Clintock  declares  that  he  saw  your  picture  by 
Ary  Scheffer  in  the  Exhibition,  and  fell  madly  in  love  with 
it,  Bella." 

"And  old  Colonel  Orde  says  that  he  is  intriguing  to  get 
in  for  the  borough  of  Coleraine;    that  he  saw  him  in  the 


64  TONY  BUTLER. 

garden  t'  other  morning  with  a  list  of  the  electors  in  his 
hand." 

''My  conjecture  is,  that  he  is  intolerably  bored  every- 
where, and  came  down  here  to  try  the  effect  of  a  new  mode 
of  the  infliction  that  he  had  never  experienced  before.  "What 
else  would  explain  a  project  I  heard  him  arrange  for  this 
morning,  —  a  walk  with  Beck  Graham !  " 

"Yes,  I  was  in  the  window  w^hen  he  asked  her  where  she 
usually  went  in  those  wanderings  over  the  fern  hills,  with 
that  great  umbrella;  and  she  told  him  to~visit  an  old  lady 
—  a  Mrs.  Butler  —  who  had  been  a  dear  friend  of  her 
mother's;  and  then  he  said,  '  I  wish  you'd  take  me  with 
you.  I  have  a  positive  weakness  for  old  ladies;  '  and  so 
the  bargain  was  struck,  that  they  were  to  go  to  the  cottage 
to-day  together." 

"Beck,  of  course,  fancying  that  it  means  a  distinct  avowal 
of  attention  to  herself." 

"  And  her  sister,  Sally,  very  fully  persuaded  that  Maitland 
is  a  suitor  for  her  hand,  and  cunningly  securing  Beck's 
good  offices  before  he  risks  a  declaration." 

"Sally  already  believes  that  Mark  is  what  she  calls 
'  landed ;  '  and  she  gave  me  some  pretty  broad  hints  about 
the  insufferable  pretensions  of  younger  sons,  to  which  class 
she  consigns  him." 

"And  Beck  told  me  yesterda}^,  in  confidence,  that  Tony 
had  been  sent  away  from  home  by  his  mother,  as  the  last 
resource  against  the  consequence  of  his  fatal  passion  for 
her." 

"Poor  Tony,"  sighed  the  young  widow,  "he  never  thought 
of  her." 

"Did  he  tell  you  as  much,  Alice?"  said  her  sister,  slyly. 

"No,  dear;  it  is  the  one  subject  —  I  mean  love  in  any 
shape  —  that  we  never  discussed.  The  poor  boy  confessed 
to  me  all  his  griefs  about  his  purposeless  idle  life,  his 
mother's  straitened  fortune,  and  his  uncle's  heartless  in- 
difference; everything,  in  short,  that  lay  heavily  on  his 
heart." 

"Everything  but  the  heaviest,  Alice,"  said  the  other, 
smiling. 

"Well,  if  he  had  opened  that  sorrow,  I'd  have  heard  him 


LYLE   ABBEY  AND  ITS   GUESTS.  65 

without  anger;  I'd  have  honestly  told  him  it  was  a  very 
vain  and  fruitless  pursuit.  But  still  my  own  heart  would 
have  declared  to  me  that  a  young  fellow  is  all  the  better  for 
some  romance  of  this  kind,  —  that  it  elevates  motives  and 
dignifies  actions,  and,  not  least  of  all  advantages,  makes 
him  very  uncompanionable  for  creatures  of  mere  dissipation 
and  excess." 

"  But  that,  of  course,  you  were  merely  objective  the  while, 
—  the  source  from  which  so  many  admirable  results  were  to 
issue,  and  never  so  much  as  disturbed  by  the  breath  of  his 
attachment.     Isn't  that  so?" 

''I'd  have  said,  '  You're  a  very  silly  boy  if  3'ou  imagine 
that  anything  can  come  of  all  this. '  " 

"And  if  he  were  to  ask  for  the  reason,  and  sa}",  '  Alice, 
are  you  not  your  own  mistress,  rich,  free  to  do  whatever 
you  incline  to  do?  Why  should  you  call  me  a  fool  for 
loving  you  ? '  " 

"Take  my  word  for  it,  Bella,  he'll  never  risk  the  answer 
he  'd  be  sure  to  meet  to  such  a  speech,"  said  the  other, 
haughtily ;  and  Isabella,  who  felt  a  sort  of  awe  of  her  sister 
at  certain  moments,  desisted  from  the  theme.  "Look! 
yonder  they  go,  Maitland  and  Rebecca,  not  exactly  arm- in- 
arm, but  with  bent-clown  heads,  and  that  propinquity  that 
implies  close  converse." 

"I  declare  I  feel  quite  jealous, —  I  mean  on  your  account, 
Bella,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford. 

"Never  mind  my  interests  in  the  matter,  Alice,"  said 
she,  reddening;  "it  is  a  matter  of  the  most  complete  in- 
difference to  me  with  whom  he  walks  or  talks.  Mr.  Nor- 
man ]Maitland  is  not  to  me  one  whit  more  of  consequence 
than  is  Tony  Butler  to  my  sister." 

"That's  a  confession,  Bella, — a  confession  wrung  out 
of  a  hasty  moment;  for  Tony  certainly  likes  we,  and  / 
know  it." 

"Well,  then,  the  cases  are  not  similar,  for  Mr.  Maitland 
does  not  care  for  me;  or,  if  he  does,  I  don't  know  it,  nor 
do  I  want  to  know  it." 

"Come,  darling,  put  on  your  shawl,  and  let  us  have  a 
breezy  walk  on  the  cliffs  before  the  day  darkens ;  neither 
of  tiiese  gentlemen   are  worth  the   slightest   estrangement 

5 


66  TONY  BUTLER. 

between  such  sisters  as  we  are.  Whether  Ton}^  likes  me  or 
not,  don't  steal  him  from  me,  and  I  '11  promise  you  to  be 
just  as  loyal  with  regard  to  the  other.  How  I  'd  like  to 
know  what  they  are  talking  of  there!  " 

As  it  is  not  impossible  the  reader  may  in  some  slight 
degree  participate  in  the  fair  widow's  sentiment,  we  mean 
to  take  up  the  conversation  just  as  it  reached  the  time  in 
which  the  remark  was  applied  to  it.  Miss  Becky  Graham 
was  giving  her  companion  a  sketchy  description  of  all  the 
persons  then  at  the  Abbey,  not  taking  any  especial  care 
to  be  epigrammatic  or  picturesque,  but  to  be  literal  and 
truthful. 

"Mrs.  Maxwell,  — an  old  horror, —  tolerated  just  because 
she  owns  Tilney  Park,  and  can  leave  it  to  whom  she  likes; 
and  the  Lyles  hope  it  will  fall  to  Mark,  or,  possibly,  to 
Bella.     They  stand  to  win  on  either." 

''And  which  is  the  favorite?"  asked  Maitland,  with  a 
faint  smile. 

"You  'd  like  to  think  Isabella,"  said  Miss  Beckys  with  a 
sharp  piercing  glance  to  read  his  thoughts  at  an  unguarded- 
moment,  if  he  had  such,  "but  she  is  not.  Old  Aunt  Max- 
well —  she  's  as  much  your  aunt  as  theirs  —  detests  girls, 
and  has,  I  actually  believe,  thoughts  of  marrying  again. 
By  the  way,  you  said  you  wanted  money;  why  not  '  go  in  A 
there  ?  eight  thousand  a-year  in  land,  real  estate,  and  a  fine 
old  house  with  some  great  timber  around  it." 

"I  want  to  pay  my  old  debts,  not  incur  new  ones,  my 
dear  Miss  Graham." 

"  I  'm  not  3^our  dear  Miss  Graham,  —  I  'm  Beck,  or  Becky, 
or  I  'm  Miss  Rebecca  Graham,  if  you  want  to  be  respectful. 
But  what  do  you  say  to  the  Maxwell  handicap  ?  I  could  do 
you  a  good  turn  there;  she  lets  me  say  what  I  please  to 
her." 

"I'd  rather  you'd  give  me  that  privilege  with  yourself, 
charming  Rebecca." 

'^  Don't,  I  say ;  don't  try  that  tiresome  old  dodge  of  mock 
flattery.  I  'm  not  charming,  any  more  than  you  are  honest 
or  straightforward.  Let  us  be  on  the  square  —  do  you  un- 
derstand that?  Of  course  you  do?  Whom  shall  I  trot  out 
next  for  you  ?  —  for  the  whole  lot  shall  be  disposed  of  with- 


LYLE   ABBEY  AND  ITS   GUESTS.  67 

out  auy  reserve.  Will  you  have  Sir  Arthur,  with  his  tiresome 
Indian  stories,  enhanced  to  himself  by  all  the  lacs  of  rupees 
that  are  associated  with  them?  Will  you  have  the  gay 
widow,  who  married  for  pique,  and  inherited  a  great  fortune 
by  a  blunder?  Will  you  have  Isabella,  who  is  angling  for 
a  coronet,  but  would  not  refuse  you  if  you  are  rich  enough? 
Will  you  have  that  very  light  dragoon,  who  thinks  'ours  '  the 
standard  for  manners  in  Europe  ?  —  or  the  two  elder  brothers, 
gray-headed,  pale-faced,  husky- voiced  civil  servants,  working 
hard  to  make  a  fortune  in  advance  of  a  liver  complaint? 
Say  the  '  number,'  and  the  animal  shall  be  led  out  for 
inspection." 

"  After  all,  it  is  scarcely  fair  in  me  to  ask  it,  for  I  don't 
come  as  a  buyer." 

"  Well,  if  you  have  a  taste  for  that  sort  of  thing  —  are  we 
out  of  sight  of  tlie  windows  ?  —  if  so,  let  me  have  a  cigarette 
like  that  you  have  there.  I  have  n't  smoked  for  five  months. 
Oh  !  is  n't  it  a  pleasure?  " 

"  Tell  me  about  Mrs.  Butler,  —  who  is  she? " 

''She  is  Mrs.  Butler;  and  her  husband,  when  he  was 
alive,  was  Colonel  Butler,  militarily  known  as  Wat  Tartar. 
He  was  a  terrible  pipeclay ;  and  her  son  Tony  is  the 
factotum  at  the  Abbey ;  or  rather  he  was,  till  Mark  told  him 
to  shave,  a  poodle,  or  singe  a  pony,  or  paint  a  wheelbarrow 
—  I  forget ;  but  I  know  it  was  something  he  had  done  once 
out  of  good-humor,  and  the  hussar  creature  fancied  he  'd 
make  him  do  it  again  through  an  indignity." 

"  And  he  —  I  mean  Butler  —  stands  upon  being  a  gentle- 
man?" 

"  I  should  think  he  does ;  is  not  his  birth  good?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  the  Butlers  are  of  an  old  stock." 

"  They  talk  of  an  uncle,  Sir  Ramrod,  —  it  isn't  Ramrod, 
but  it 's  like  it,  —  a  tiresome  old  fellow,  who  was  envoy 
at  Naples,  and  who  married,  I  believe,  a  ballet-dancer,  and 
who  might  leave  Tony  all  his  fortune,  if  he  liked,  —  which 
he  does  n't." 

"  Having  no  family  of  his  own?  "  asked  Maitland,  as  he 
puffed  his  cigar. 

"  None ;  but  that  does  n't  matter,  for  he  has  turned 
Jesuit,  and  will  leave  everything  to  the  sacred  something  or 


68  TONY  BUTLER. 

other  in  Rome.  I  've  heard  all  that  from  old  Widow  Butler, 
who  has  a  perfect  passion  for  talking  of  her  amiable  brother- 
in-law,  as  she  calls  him.  She  hates  him,  —  always  did  hate 
him,  —  and  taught  Tony  to  hate  him  ;  and  with  all  that  it  was 
only  yesterday  she  said  to  me  that  perhaps  she  was  not 
fully  justified  in  sending  back  unopened  two  letters  he  had 
written  to  her,  —  one  after  the  loss  of  some  Canadian  bonds 
of  hers,  which  got  rumored  abroad  in  the  newspapers ; 
the  other  was  on  Tony's  coming  of  age ;  and  she  said, 
'  Becky,  I  begin  to  suspect  that  I  had  no  right  to  carry  my 
own  uuforgiveness  to  the  extent  of  an  injury  to  my  boy,  — 
tell  me  what  you  would  do.'" 

"  And  what  was  your  answer?  " 

"I'd  have  made  it  up  with  the  old  swell.  I'd  say,  'Is 
not  this  boy  more  to  you  than  all  those  long-petticoated 
tonsured  humbugs,  who  can  always  cheat  some  one  or  other 
out  of  an  inheritance?  '  I  'd  say,  '  Look  at  him,  and  you'll 
fancy  it 's  Walter  telling  you  that  he  forgives  you.'  " 

"  If  he  be  like  most  of  his  order,  Miss  Becky,  he  'd  only 
smile  at  your  appeal,"  said  Maitland,  coldly. 

''  Well,  J  'd  not  let  it  be  laughing  matter  with  him,  I  can 
tell  you ;  stupid  wills  are  broken  every  day  of  the  week,  and 
I  don't  think  the  Jesuits  are  in  such  favor  in  England  that 
a  jury  would  decide  for  them  against  an  English  youth  of 
the  kith  and  kin  of  the  testator." 

''  You  speak  cleverly,  Miss  Graham,  and  you  show  that 
you  know  all  the  value  that  attaches  to  popular  sympathy  in 
the  age  we  live  in." 

"  And  don't  you  agree  with  me?  " 

"  Ah,  there  's  a  deal  to  be  said  on  either  side." 

"Then,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  say  it.  There  —  no  — 
more  to  the  left —  there,  where  you  see  the  blue  smoke  rising 
over  the  rocks  —  there  stands  the  widow's  cottage.  I  don't 
know  how  she  endures  the  loneliness  of  it.  Could  you  face 
such  a  life?" 

"A  double  solitude  —  what  the  French  call  an  egoism  e  a 
deux  —  is  not  so  insupportable.  In  fact,  it  all  depends 
upon  '  the  partner  with  whom  we  share  our  isolation.'  "  He 
threw  a  tone  of  half  tenderness  into  the  words  that  made 
them  very  significant,  and  Rebecca  gave  him  one  of  her  quick 


LYLE   ABBEY  AND   ITS   GUESTS.  69 

sudden  glances  with  which  she  often  read  a  secret  motive. 
This  time,  however,  she  failed.  There  was  nothing  in  that 
sallow  but  handsome  face  that  revealed  a  clew  to  anything. 

"I'll  have  to  ask  Mrs.  Butler's  leave  before  1  present 
you,"  said  she,  suddenly. 

*'  Of  course,  I'll  await  her  permission." 

"  The  chances  are  she'll  say  no;  indeed,  it  is  all  but  cer- 
tain she  will." 

"Then  I  must  resign  myself  to  patience  and  a  cigar  till 
you  come  out  again,"  said  he,  calmly. 

"  Shall  I  say  that  there's  any  reason  for  your  visit?  Do 
you  know  any  Butlers,  or  have  j^ou  any  relationship,  real  or 
pretended,  with  the  family,  that  would  make  a  pretext  for 
coming  to  see  her?" 

Had  Miss  Graham  only  glanced  as  keenly  at  Maitland's 
features  now  as  she  had  a  few  moments  back,  she  might 
have  seen  a  faint,  a  very  faint,  flush  cross  his  cheek,  and 
then  give  way  to  a  deep  paleness.  "  No,"  said  he,  coldly,  "  I 
cannot  pretend  the  shadow  of  a  claim  to  her  acquaintance, 
and  I  can  scarcely  presume  to  ask  you  to  present  me  as  a 
friend  of  your  own,  except  in  the  common  acceptation  given 
to  the  word." 

"Oh,  I  '11  do  that  readily  enough.  Bless  your  heart,  if 
there  was  anything  to  be  gained  by  it,  I  'd  call  you  my 
cousin,  and  address  you  as  Norman  all  the  time  of  the  visit." 

"If  you  but  knew  how  the  familiarity  would  flatter  me, 
particularly  were  I  to  return  it !  " 

"And  call  me  Becky, — I  hope!  Well,  you  are  a  cool 
hand !  " 

"  My  friends  are  in  the  habit  of  amusing  themselves  with 
my  diffidence  and  my  timidity." 

"They  must  be  very  ill  off  for  a  pastime,  then.  I  used 
to  think  Mark  Lj^le  bad  enough,  but  his  is  a  blushing  bash- 
fulness  compared  to  yours." 

"You  only  see  me  in  my  struggle  to  overcome  a  natural 
defect,  Miss  Graham,  —  just  as  a  coward  assumes  the  bully 
to  conceal  his  poltroonery;  you  regard  in  me  the  mock 
audacity  that  strives  to  shroud  a  most  painful  modesty." 

She  looked  full  at  him  for  an  instant,  and  then  burst  into 
a  loud  and  joyful  fit  of  laughter,  in  which  he  joined  without 


70  TONY  BUTLER. 

the  faintest  show  of  displeasure.     ''  Well,  I  believe  you  are 
good-tempered,"  said  she,  frankly. 

"The  best  in  the  world;  I  am  very  seldom  angry;  I 
never  bear  malice." 

"  Have  you  any  other  good  qualities?"  asked  she,  with  a 
slight  mockery  in  her  voice. 

tt  Yes,  —  many;  I  am  trustful  to  the  verge  of  credulity; 
I  am  generous  to  the  limits  of  extravagance ;  I  am  unswerv- 
ing in  my  friendships,  and  without  the  taint  of  a  selfishness 
in  all  my  nature." 

"  How  nice  that  is,  or  how  nice  it  must  be !  " 

"  I  could  grow  eloquent  over  my  gifts,  if  it  were  not  that 
my  bashfulness  might  embarrass  me." 

"  Have  you  any  faults?  " 

''  I  don't  think  so ;  at  least  I  can't  recall  any." 

*'  Nor  failings?" 

"  Failings  !  perhaps,"  said  he,  dubiously  ;  "  but  they  are, 
after  all,  mere  weaknesses,  —  such  as  a  liking  for  splendor, 
a  love  of  luxury  generally,  a  taste  for  profusion,  a  sort  of 
regal  profusion  in  daily  life,  which  occasionally  jars  with  my 
circumstances,  making  me  —  not  irritable,  I  am  never  irri- 
table—  but  low-spirited  and  depressed." 

"Then,  from  what  you  have  told  me,  I  think  I'd  better 
say  to  Mrs.  Butler  that  there 's  an  angel  waiting  outside  who 
is  most  anxious  to  make  her  acquaintance." 

"Do  so;  and  add  that  he'll  fold  his  wings,  and  sit  on 
this  stone  till  you  come  to  fetch  him." 

^^ All  revo'ir^  Gabriel,  then,"  said  she,  passing  in  at  the 
wicket,  and  taking  her  way  through  the  little  garden. 

Maitland  sat  discussing  in  his  own  mind  the  problem  how 
far  Alcibiades  was  right  or  wrong  in  endeavoring  to  divert 
the  world  from  any  criticism  of  himself  by  a  certain  alteration 
in  his  dog's  tail,  rather  opining  that,  in  our  day  at  least,  the 
wiser  course  would  have  been  to  avoid  all  comment  whatso- 
ever, —  the  imputation  of  an  eccentricity  being  only  second 
to  the  accusation  of  a  crime.  With  the  Greeks  of  that  day 
the  false  scent  was  probably  a  success ;  with  the  English  of 
ours,  the  real  wisdom  is  not  to  be  hunted.  "  Oh,  if  it  Avere 
all  to  be  done  again,  how  very  differently  I  should  do  it !  " 

"Indeed,  and  in  what  respect?"  said  a  voice  behind  his 


LYLE  ABBEY  AND   ITS   GUESTS.  71 

shoulder.  He  looked  up,  and  saw  Beck  Graham  gazing  on 
him  with  something  of  interest  in  her  expression.  "  How 
so?"  cried  she,  again.  Not  in  the  slightest  degree  discom- 
posed or  flurried,  he  lay  lazily  back  on  the  sward,  and  draw- 
ing his  hand  over  his  eyes  to  shade  them  from  the  sun,  said, 
in  a  half-languid,  weary  tone,  "If  it  were  to  do  again,  I  'd  go 
in  for  happiness." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  happiness?  " 

"  What  we  all  mean  by  it:  an  organized  selfishness,  that 
draws  a  close  cordon  round  our  home,  and  takes  care  to  keep 
out,  so  far  as  possible,  duns,  bores,  fevers,  and  fashionable 
acquaintances.  By  the  way,  is  your  visit  ended,  or  will  she 
see  me?  " 

"  Not  to-day.  She  hopes  to-morrow  to  be  able.  She  asks  if 
you  are  of  the  Maitlands  of  Gillie  —  Gillie  —  not  '  crankie,' 
but  a  sound  like  it,  —  and  if  your  mother's  name  was  Janet." 

"  And  I  trust,  from  the  little  you  know  of  me,  you  assured 
her  it  could  not  be,"  said  he,  calmly. 

"  Well,  1  said  that  I  knew  no  more  of  your  family  than  all 
the  rest  of  us  up  at  the  Abbey,  who  have  been  sifting  all  the 
Maitlands  in  the  three  kingdoms  in  the  hope  of  finding  you." 

"  How  flattering !  and  at  the  same  time  how  vain  a  labor! 
The  name  came  to  me  with  some  fortune.  I  took  it  as  I  'd 
have  taken  a  more  ill-sounding  one  for  money!  Who 
would  n't  be  baptized  in  bank  stock  ?  I  hope  it 's  not  on 
the  plea  of  my  mother  being  Janet,  that  she  consents  to 
receive  me?" 

"  She  hopes  you  are  Lady  Janet's  son,  and  that  you 
have  the  Maitland  eyes,  which  it  seems  are  dark,  and  a 
something  in  their  manner  which  she  assures  me  was 
especially  captivating." 

'•  And  for  which,  I  trust,  you  vouched?  " 

"  Yes.  I  said  you  were  a  clever  sort  of  person,  that  could 
do  a  number  of  things  well,  and  that  I  for  one  did  n't  quarrel 
with  your  vanity  or  conceit,  but  thought  them  rather  good 
fun." 

"  So  they  are  !  and  we  '11  laugh  at  them  together,"  said  he, 
rising,  and  preparing  to  set  out.  "  What  a  blessing  to  find 
one  that  really  understands  me  I  I  wish  to  heaven  that  you 
were  not  engaged  !  " 


72  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  And  who  says  I  am?  '*  cried  she,  almost  fiercely. 

''Did  I  dream  it?  Who  knows?  The  fact  is,  my  dear 
Miss  Becky,  we  do  talk  with  such  a  rare  freedom  to  each 
other,  it  is  pardonable  to  mix  up  one's  reveries  with  his 
actual  information.     How  do  you  call  that  ruin  yonder?" 

"  Dunluce." 

''  And  that  great  bluff  beyond  it?  " 

"  Fairhead." 

''I'll  take  a  long  walk  to-morrow,  and  visit  that  part  of 
the  coast." 

"  You  are  forgetting  you  are  to  call  on  Mrs.  Butler." 

"  So  I  was.     At  what  hour  are  we  to  be  here?  " 

"  There  is  no  question  of  '  we '  in  the  matter ;  j^our  modesty 
must  make  its  advances  alone." 

"  You  are  not  angry  with  me,  carissima  Rebecca?  " 

"  Don't  think  that  a  familiarity  is  less  a  liberty  because  it 
is  dressed  in  a  foreign  tongue." 

"  But  it  would  '  out ; '  the  expression  forced  itself  from  my 
lips  in  spite  of  me,  just  as  some  of  the  sharp  things  you  have 
been  saying  to  me  were  perfectly  irrepressible  ?  " 

"  I  suspect  you  like  this  sort  of  sparring?" 

"  Delight  in  it." 

"  So  do  I.  There  's  only  one  condition  I  make  :  whenever 
you  mean  to  take  off  the  gloves,  and  intend  to  hit  out  hard, 
that  you  '11  say  so  before.     Is  that  agreed  ?  " 

"  It's  a  bargain." 

She  held  out  her  hand  frankly,  and  he  took  it  as  cordially ; 
and  in  a  hearty  squeeze  the  compact  was  ratified. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you,"  said  she,  as  they  drew  nigh  the  Abbey, 
"  that  you  are  a  great  puzzle  to  us  all  here?  We  none  of  us 
can  guess  how  so  great  a  person  as  yourself  should  condescend 
to  come  down  to  such  an  out-o'-the-world  spot,  and  waste  his 
fascinations  on  such  dull  company." 

"  Your  explanation,  I  '11  wager,  was  the  true  one:  let  me 
hear  it." 

"I  called  it  eccentricity;  the  oddity  of  a  man  who  had 
traded  so  long  in  oddity  that  he  grew  to  be  inexplicable, 
even  to  himself,  and  that  an  Irish  country-house  was  one 
of  the  few  things  you  had  not  '  done,'  and  that  you  were 
determined  to  '  do '  it." 


LYLE  ABBEY  AND  ITS  GUESTS.         73 

*'  There  was  that,  and  something  more,"  said  Maitland, 
thoughtfully. 

"  The  '  something  more '  being,  I  take  it,  the  whole  secret." 

"  As  you  read  me  like  a  book,  Miss  Rebecca,  all  I  ask  is, 
that  you  '11  shut  the  volume  when  you  've  done  with  it,  and 
not  talk  over  it  with  your  literary  friends." 

"It  is  not  my  way,"  said  she,  half  pettishly;  and  they 
reached  the  door  as  she   spoke. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

SOME    EXPLANATIONS. 

If  there  was  anything  strange  or  inexplicable  in  the  appear- 
ance of  one  of  Maitland's  pretensions  in  an  unfrequented 
and  obscure  part  of  the  world, —  if  there  was  matter  in  it  to 
puzzle  the  wise  heads  of  squires,  and  make  country  intelli- 
gences look  confused,  —  there  is  no  earthly  reason  why  any 
mystification  should  be  practised  with  our  reader.  He,  at 
least,  is  under  our  guidance,  and  to  him  we  impart  whatever 
is  known  to  ourselves.  For  a  variety  of  reasons,  some  of 
which  this  history  later  on  will  disclose,  —  others,  the  less 
imminent,  we  are  free  now  to  avow, — Mr.  Norman  Mait- 
land  had  latterly  addressed  much  of  his  mind  to  the  political 
intrigues  of  a  foreign  country:  that  country  was  Naples. 
He  had  known  it  —  we  are  not  free  to  say  how,  at  this  place 
—  from  his  childhood ;  he  knew  its  people  in  every  rank 
and  class ;  he  knew  its  dialect  in  all  its  idioms.  He  could 
talk  the  slang  of  the  lazzaroni,  and  the  wild  patois  of  Cala- 
bria, just  as  fluently  as  that  composite  language  which  the 
King  Ferdinand  used,  and  which  was  a  blending  of  the 
vulgarisms  of  the  Chiaja  with  the  Frenchified  chit-chat  of 
the  Court. 

There  were  events  happening  in  Italy  which,  though  not 
for  the  moment  involving  the  question  of  Naples,  suggested 
to  the  wiser  heads  in  that  country  the  sense  of  a  coming 
peril.  We  cannot,  at  this  yjlace,  explain  how  or  why  Mait- 
land  should  have  been  a  sharer  in  these  deeds ;  it  is  enough 
to  say  that  he  was  one  of  a  little  knot  who  had  free  access 
to  the  palace,  and  enjoyed  constant  intercourse  with  the 
king,  —  free  to  tell  him  of  all  that  went  on  in  his  brilliant 
capital  of  vice  and  levity,  to  narrate  its  duels,  its  defalca- 
tions, its  intrigues,  its  family  scandals  and  domestic  dis' 


SOME  EXPLANATIONS.  75 

graces,  —  to  talk  of  anything  and  everything  but  one :  not  a 
word  on  politics  was  to  escape  them;  never  in  the  most 
remote  way  was  a  syllable  to  drop  of  either  what  was  hap- 
pening in  the  State,  or  what  comments  the  French  or  Eng- 
lish press  might  pass  on  it.  No  allusion  was  to  escape  on 
questions  of  government,  nor  the  name  of  a  minister  to  be 
spoken,  except  he  were  the  hero  of  some  notorious  scandal. 
All  these  precautions  could  not  stifle  fear.  The  menials 
had  seen  the  handwriting  on  the  wall  before  Belshazzar's 
eyes  had  fallen  on  it.  The  men  who  stood  near  the  throne 
saw  that  it  rocked  already.  There  was  but  one  theme  within 
the  palace,  — the  fidelity  of  the  army;  and  every  rude  pas- 
sage between  the  soldiery  and  the  people  seemed  to  testify 
to  that  faithfulness.  Amongst  those  who  were  supposed 
to  enjoy  the  sovereign  confidence  —  for  none  in  reality  pos- 
sessed it  —  was  the  Count  Caffarelli,  a  man  of  very  high 
family  and  large  fortune;  and  though  not  in  the  slightest 
degree  tinctured  with  Liberalism  in  politics,  one  of  the  very 
few  Neapolitan  nobles  who  either  understood  the  drift,  or 
estimated  the  force  of  the  party  of  action.  He  foresaw  the 
coming  struggle,  and  boded  ill  of  its  result.  With  Mr. 
Maitland  he  lived  in  closest  intimacy.  The  Italian,  though 
older  than  the  Englishman,  had  been  his  companion  in 
years  of  dissipation.  In  everj^  capital  of  Europe  these  two 
men  had  left  traditions  of  extravagance  and  excess.  They 
had  an  easy  access  to  the  highest  circles  in  every  city,  and 
it  was  their  pleasure  to  mix  in  all,  even  to  the  lowest. 
Between  them  there  had  grown  what,  between  such  men, 
represented  a  strong  friendship,  —  that  is,  either  would 
readily  have  staked  his  life  or  his  fortune;  in  other  words, 
have  fought  a  duel,  or  paid  the  play-debts  of  the  other. 
Each  knew  the  exact  rules  of  honor  which  guided  the  conduct 
of  the  other,  and  knew,  besides,  that  no  other  principles 
than  these  held  any  sway  or  influence  over  him. 

Caffarelli  saw  that  the  Bourbon  throne  was  in  danger, 
and  with  it  the  fortunes  of  all  who  adhered  to  the  dynasty. 
If  all  his  prejudices  and  sympathies  were  with  monarchy, 
these  would  not  have  prevented  him  from  making  terms  with 
the  revolution,  if  he  thought  the  revolution  could  be  trusted; 
but  this  was  precisely  what  he  did  not,  could  not  believe. 


76  TONY  BUTLER. 

^^  Ceux  qui  sont  Bleus  restent  Bleus^"  said  the  first  Napo- 
leon; and  so  Caffarelli  assured  himself  that  a  canaille 
always  would  be  a  canaille.  Philip  Egalite  was  a  case  in 
point  of  what  came  of  such  concessions;  therefore  he 
decided  it  was  better  to  stand  by  the  monarchy,  and  that 
real  policy  consisted  in  providing  that  there  should  be  a 
monarchy  to  stand  by. 

To  play  that  mock  game  of  popularity,  the  being  cheered 
by  the  lazzaroni,  was  the  extent  of  toleration  to  which  the 
king  could  be  persuaded.  Indeed,  he  thought  these  vivas 
the  hearty  outburst  of  a  fervent  and  affectionate  loyalty; 
and  many  of  his  Ministers  appeared  to  concur  with  him. 
Caffarelli,  who  was  Master  of  the  Horse,  deemed  otherwise, 
and  confessed  to  Maitland  that,  though  assassination  was 
cheap  enough  in  the  quarter  of  Santa  Lucia,  there  was  a 
most  indiscriminating  indifference  as  to  who  might  be  the 
victim,  and  that  the  old  Marquess  of  Montanara,  the  Prefect 
of  the  Palace,  would  not  cost  a  carlino  more  than  the  veriest 
follower  of  Mazzini. 

Both  Caffarelli  and  Maitland  enjoyed  secret  sources  of 
information.  They  were  members  of  that  strange  league 
which  has  a  link  in  every  grade  and  class  of  Neapolitan 
society,  and  makes  the  very  highest  in  station  the  confidant 
and  the  accomplice  of  the  most  degraded  and  the  meanest. 
This  sect,  called  La  Camorra,  was  originall}-  a  mere  system 
of  organized  extortion,  driving,  by  force  of  menace,  an 
impost  on  every  trade  and  occupation,  and  exacting  its  dues 
by  means  of  agents  well  known  to  be  capable  of  the  greatest 
crimes.  Caffarelli,  who  had  long  employed  its  services  to 
assist  him  in  his  intrigues  or  accomplish  his  vengeances, 
was  a  splendid  contributor  to  its  resources.  He  was  rich 
and  munificent;  he  loved  profusion,  but  he  adored  it  when 
it  could  be  made  the  mainspring  of  some  dark  and  myste- 
rious machinery.  Though  the  Camorra  was  not  in  the 
remotest  degree  political,  Caffarelli  learned,  through  its 
agency,  that  the  revolutionary  party  were  hourl}^  gaining 
strength  and  courage.  They  saw  the  growing  discontent 
that  spread  abroad  about  the  ruling  dynasty,  and  they  knew 
how  little  favor  would  be  shown  the  Bourbons  by  the  West- 
ern Powers,  whose  counsels  had  been  so  flatly  rejected,  and 


SOME   EXPLANATIONS.  77 

whose  warnings  despised.  They  felt  that  their  hour  was 
approaching,  and  that  Northern  Italy  would  soon  hasten  to 
their  aid  if  the  work  of  overthrow  were  once  fairly  begun. 
Their  only  doubts  were  lest  the  success,  when  achieved, 
should  have  won  nothing  for  them.  It  may  be  as  in  Forty- 
eight,  said  they;  we  may  drive  the  king  out  of  Naples  as 
we  drove  the  Austrians  out  of  Milan,  and,  after  all,  only 
be  conquering  a  larger  kingdom  for  the  House  of  Savoy. 
Hence  they  hesitated  and  held  back ;  nor  were  their  fears 
causeless.  For  what  had  revolution  poured  forth  its  blood 
like  water  in  Paris?  To  raise  up  the  despotism  of  the 
Second  Empire! 

Caffarelli  was  in  possession  of  all  this;  he  knew  what 
they  hoped  and  wished  and  '  feared.  The  Camorra  itself 
numbered  many  professed  revolutionists  ("Keds,"  as  they 
liked  to  be  called)  in  its  sect,  but  was  itself  untiuctured  by 
politics.  The  wily  Count  thought  that  it  was  a  pity  so  good 
an  organization  should  be  wasted  on  mere  extortion  and 
robbery.  There  were  higher  crimes  they  might  attain  to, 
and  grander  interests  they  might  subserve.  Never,  per- 
haps, was  the  world  of  Europe  so  much  in  the  hands  of  a 
few  powerful  men.  Withdraw  from  it,  say,  half  a  dozen, 
—  one  could  name  them  at  once,  —  and  what  a  change  might 
come  over  the  Continent!  Caffarelli  was  no  assassin;  but 
there  are  men,  and  he  was  one  of  them,  that  can  trifle  with 
gre^lt  crimes,  just  as  children  play  with  fire ;  who  can  jest 
with  them,  laugh  at  them,  and  sport  with  them,  till,  out  of 
mere  familiarity,  they  forget  the  horror  they  should  inspire 
and  the  penalty  they  enforce.  He  had  known  Orsini  inti- 
mately, and  liked  him;  nor  did  he  talk  of  his  memory  with 
less  affection  that  he  had  died  beneath  the  guillotine.  He 
would  not  himself  engage  in  a  crime  that  would  dishonor 
his  name ;  but  he  knew  there  were  a  great  number  of  people 
in  the  world  who  could  no  more  be  punctilious  about  honor 
than  about  the  linen  they  wore,  —  fellows  who  walked  in 
rags  and  dined  off  garlic.  Why  should  they  stick  at  trifles? 
They  had  no  noble  escutcheons  to  be  tarnished,  no  splendid 
names,  no  high  lineage  to  be  disgraced.  In  fact,  there 
were  crimes  that  became  them,  just  as  certain  forms  of 
labor  suited  them.     They  worked  with  their  hands  in  each 


78  TONY  BUTLER. 

case.  Amongst  the  Camorra  he  knew  many  such.  The 
difficulty  was  to  bring  the  power  of  the  sect  to  bear  upon 
the  questions  that  engaged  him.  It  would  not  have  been 
difficult  to  make  them  revolutionists,  — the  one  word  "pil- 
lage "  would  have  sufficed  for  that ;  the  puzzle  was  how  to 
make  them  royalists.  Mere  pay  would  not  do.  These 
fellows  had  got  a  taste  for  irregular  gain.  To  expect  to 
win  them  over  by  pay,  or  retain  them  by  discipline,  was  to 
hope  to  convert  a  poacher  by  inviting  him  to  a  battue. 
Caffarelli  had  revolved  the  matter  very  long  and  carefully; 
he  had  talked  it  over  scores  of  times  with  Maitland.  They 
agreed  that  the  Camorra  had  great  capabilities,  if  one  only 
could  use  them.  Through  the  members  of  that  league  in 
the  army  they  had  learned  that  the  troops,  the  long- vaunted 
reliance  of  the  monarchy,  could  not  be  trusted.  Many  regi- 
ments were  ready  to  take  arms  with  the  Reds ;  many  more 
would  disband  and  return  to  their  homes.  As  for  the  navy, 
they  declared  there  was  not  one  ship's  company  would 
stand  by  the  Sovereign.  The  most  well-affected  would  be 
neutral ;  none  save  the  foreign  legions  would  fight  for  the 
king.  The  question  then  was,  to  reinforce  these,  and  at 
once, —  a  matter  far  more  difficult  than  it  used  to  be.  Swit- 
zerland would  no  longer  permit  this  recruitment.  Austria 
would  give  none  but  her  criminals.  America,  it  was  said,' 
abounded  in  ardent  adventurous  spirits  that  would  readily 
risk  life  in  pursuit  of  fortune;  but  then  the  cause  was  not 
one  which,  by  any  ingenuity,  could  be  made  to  seem  that  of 
liberty.  Nothing  then  remained  but  Ireland.  There  there 
was  bravery  and  poverty  both ;  thousands,  who  had  no  fears 
and  very  little  food,  ready  for  any  enterprise,  but  far 
readier  for  one  which  could  be  dignified  as  being  the  battle 
of  the  Truth  and  the  cause  of  the  Holy  Father. 

An  Irish  legion,  some  five  or  six  thousand  devout  Cath- 
olics and  valiant  soldiers,  was  a  project  that  the  Minister 
of  War  at  once  embraced.  His  Excellency  saw  Maitland 
on  it,  and  talked  over  the  whole  plan.  Maitland  was  him- 
self to  direct  all  its  operations.  Caffarelli  would  correspond 
with  him  from  Naples,  and,  in  case  of  any  complication  or 
difficulty,  shroud  the  Minister  from  attack.  Ample  funds 
would  be  provided.     The  men  could  be  engaged  as  laborers 


SOME  EXPLANATIONS.  79 

upon  some  great  public  work,  and  forwarded  in  small  drafts 
to  a  convenient  port.  Arms  could  be  easily  procured  from 
Liege.  Officers  could  be  readily  obtained,  either  li'ish  or 
Poles  or  Hungarians,  who  could  speak  English.  In  a  word, 
all  the  details  had  been  well  discussed  and  considered ;  and 
Maitland,  on  arriving  in  London,  had  again  talked  over  the 
project  with  wise  and  crafty  heads,  whose  prudent  counsels 
showed  him  how  little  fit  he  was,  personally,  to  negotiate 
directly  with  the  Irish  peasant,  and  how  imperative  above 
all  things  it  was  to  depute  this  part  of  his  task  to  some 
clever  native,  capable  of  employing  the  subordinates  he 
needed.  "Hide  yourself,"  said  they,  "in  some  out-of-the- 
way  spot  in  Wales  or  Scotland ;  even  the  far  North  of  Ire- 
land will  do;  remain  anywhere  near  enough  to  have  frequent 
communication  with  your  agent,  but  neither  be  seen  nor 
known  in  the  plot  yourself.  Your  English  talk  and  your 
English  accent  would  destroy  more  confidence  than  your 
English  gold  would  buy." 

Such  an  agent  was  soon  found,  —  a  man  admirably  adapted 
in  many  respects  for  the  station.  He  had  been  an  adven- 
turer all  his  life ;  served  with  the  French  in  Austria,  and  the 
Austrians  in  the  Banat;  held  an  independent  command  of 
Turks  during  the  Crimean  War;  besides,  episodically,  having 
"done  a  little,"  as  he  called  it,  on  the  Indian  frontier  with 
the  Yankees ;  and  served  on  the  staff  of  Rosas,  at  La  Plata ; 
all  his  great  and  varied  experiences  tending  to  one  solitary 
conviction,  that  no  real  success  was  ever  to  be  attained  in 
anything  except  by  means  of  Irishmen;  nor  could  order, 
peace,  and  loyalty  be  ever  established  anywhere  without 
their  assistance.  If  he  was  one  of  the  bravest  men  living, 
he  was  one  of  the  most  pushing  and  impertinent.  He  would 
have  maintained  a  point  of  law  against  the  Lord  Chancellor, 
and  contested  tactics  with  a  Marshal  of  France.  He 
thought  himself  the  ornament  of  any  society  he  entered,  and 
his  vanity,  in  matters  of  intellect,  was  only  surpassed  by 
his  personal  conceit.  And  now  one  word  as  to  his  appear- 
ance. With  the  aid  of  cleverly  constructed  boots  he  stood 
five  feet  four,  but  was  squarely,  stoutly  built,  broad  in  the 
chest,  and  very  bow-legged ;  his  head  was  large,  and  seemed 
larger  from  a  mass  of  fiery  red  hair,  of  which  he  was  im- 


80  TONY  BUTLER. 

tnensely  vain  as  the  true  Celtic  color ;  he  wore  great  whis- 
kers, a  moustache,  and  chin-tuft;  but  the  flaming  hue  of 
these  seemed  actually  tamed  and  toned  down  beside  his 
eyes,  which  resembled  two  flaring  carbuncles.  They  were  the 
most  excitable,  quarrelsome,  restless  pair  of  orbs  that  ever 
beamed  in  a  human  head.  They  twinkled  and  sparkled 
with  an  incessant  mischief,  and  they  darted  such  insolent 
glances  right  and  left  as  seemed  to  say,  "Is  there  any  one 
present  who  will  presume  to  contradict  me?  " 

His  boundless  self-conceit  would  have  been  droll  if  it 
had  not  been  so  offensive.  His  theory  was  this :  all  men 
detested  him;  all  women  adored  him.  Europe  had  done 
little  better  than  intrigue  for  the  last  quarter  of  a  century 
what  country  could  secure  his  services.  As  for  the  inso- 
lent things  he  had  said  to  kings  and  emperors,  and  the 
soft  speeches  that  empresses  and  queens  had  made  to  him- 
self, they  would  fill  a  volume.  Believe  him,  and  he  had 
been  on  terms  of  more  than  intimacy  in  every  royal  palace 
of  the  Continent.  Show  the  slightest  semblance  of  doubt 
in  him,  and  the  chances  were  that  he  'd  have  had  you  "out" 
in  the  morning. 

Amongst  his  self-delusions,  it  was  one  to  believe  that  his 
voice  and  accent  were  peculiarly  insinuating.  There  was, 
it  is  true,  a  certain  slippery  insincerity  about  them,  but  the 
vulgarity  was  the  chief  characteristic ;  and  his  brogue  was 
that  of  Leinster,  which,  even  to  Irish  ears,  is  insufferable. 

Such  was,  in  brief,  the  gentleman  who  called  himself 
Major  M'Caskey,  Knight-Commander  of  various  Orders, 
and  C.S.  in  the  Pope's  household,  —  which,  interpreted, 
means  Cameriere  Secreto,  — a  something  which  corresponds 
to  gentleman-in-waitmg.  Maitland  and  he  had  never  met. 
They  had  corresponded  freely,  and  the  letters  of  the  Major 
had  by  no  means  made  a  favorable  impression  upon  INIait- 
land,  who  had  more  than  once  forwarded  extracts  from  them 
to  the  committees  in  London,  pettishly  asking,  "if  some- 
thing better  could  not  be  found  than  the  writer  of  this 
rubbish."  And  yet,  for  the  work  before  him,  'Hhe  writer 
of  this  rubbish  "  was  a  most  competent  hand.  He  knew  his 
countrymen  well,  —  knew  how  to  approach  them  by  those 
mingled  appeals  to  their  love  of  adventure  and  love  of  gain; 


SOME  EXPLANATIONS.  81 

their  passion  for  fighting,  for  carelessness,  for  disorder; 
and,  above  all,  that  wide  uncertainty  as  to  what  is  to 
come,  which  is,  to  an  Irishman's  nature,  the  most  irresist- 
ible of  all  seductions.  The  Major  had  established  com- 
mittees —  in  other  words,  recruiting-depots  —  in  several 
county  towns ;  had  named  a  considerable  number  of  petty 
officers;  and  was  only  waiting  Maitland's  orders  whether 
or  not  he  should  propose  the  expedition  to  adventurous  but 
out-at-elbows  young  fellows  of  a  superior  station,  —  the 
class  from  which  officers  might  be  taken.  "We  have  now 
said  enough  of  him  and  the  project  that  engaged  him  to 
admit  of  our  presenting  him  to  our  readers  in  one  of  his 
brief  epistles.     It  was  dated,  — 

"  Castle  Durrow,  August — ,  18 — . 
*'  Sir,  —  I  have  the  honor  to  report  for  your  information  that  I 
yesterday  enrolled  in  this  town  and  neighborhood  eighteen  fine 
fellows  for  H.  X.  M.  Two  of  them  are  returned  convicts,  and  three 
more  are  bound  over  to  come  up  for  sentence  at  a  future  assizes, 
and  one,  whom  I  have  named  a  corporal,  is  the  notorious  Hayes, 
who  shot  Captain  Macon  on  the  fair  green  at  Ballinasloe.  So  you 
see  there  's  little  fear  that  they  '11  want  to  come  back  here  when 
once  they  have  attained  to  the  style  and  dignity  of  Xeapolitan 
citizens.  Bounty  is  higher  here  by  from  sixteen  to  twenty  shillino-s 
than  in  Meath  ;  indeed,  fellows  who  can  handle  a  gun,  or  are  any- 
ways ready  with  a  weapon,  can  always  command  a  job  from  one  of 
the  secret  clubs  ;  and  my  experiences  (wide  as  most  men's)  lead  me 
entirely  to  the  selection  of  those  who  have  shown  any  aptitude  for 
active  service.  I  want  your  permission  and  instruction  to  engage 
some  young  gentlemen  of  family  and  station,  for  the  which  I  must 
necessarily  be  provided  with  means  of  entertainment.  Tafel  Gelt  ist 
nicht  TetifeFs  Gelt,  says  the  Austrian  adage  ;  and  I  believe  a  very 
moderate  outlay,  assisted  by  my  own  humble  gifts  of  persuasion, 
will  suffice.  Seduction  de  M'-CasTcy,  was  a  proverb  in  the  8th  Yol- 
tigeurs.  You  may  ask  a  certain  high  personage  in  France  who  it 
was  that  told  him  not  to  despair  on  a  particular  evening  at  Stras- 
bourg. A  hundred  pounds  —  better  if  a  hundred  and  fifty  —  would 
be  useful.  The  medals  of  his  Holiness  have  done  well,  but  I  only 
distribute  them  in  the  lower  ranks.  Some  titles  would  be  very 
advisable  if  I  am  to  deal  with  the  higher  class.  Herewith  you  have 
a  muster-roll  of  what  has  been  done  in  two  counties;  and  I  say  it 
without  fear,  not  a  man  in  the  three  kingdoms  could  have  accom- 
plished it  but  Miles  M'C.  Marmont  could  plan,  but  not  execute; 
Massena  execute,  but  not  organize  ;  Soult  could   do  none  but  the 


82  TONY  BUTLER. 

last.  It  is  no  vanity  makes  me  declare  that  I  combine  all  the 
qualities.  You  see  me  now  '  organizing ; '  in  a  few  days  you  shall 
judge  me  in  the  field ;  and,  later  on,  if  my  convictions  do  not 
deceive  me,  in  the  higher  sphere  of  directing  the  great  operations 
of  an  army.  I  place  these  words  in  your  hands  that  they  may  be 
on  record.  If  M'Caskey  falls,  it  is  a  great  destiny  cut  off;  but 
posterity  will  see  that  he  died  in  the  full  conviction  of  his  genius. 
I  have  drawn  on  you  for  thirty-eight,  ten-and-six ;  and  to-morrow 
will  draw  again  for  seventy-four,  fifteen. 

"  Your  note  has  just  come.  I  am  forced  to  say  that  its  tone  is 
not  that  to  which,  in  the  sphere  I  have  moved,  I  have  been  ac- 
customed. If  I  am  to  regard  you  as  my  superior  officer,  duty  cries, 
'  Submit.'  If  you  be  simply  a  civilian,  no  matter  how  exalted,  I 
ask  explanation.  The  dinner  at  the  Dawson  Arms  was  necessary ; 
the  champagne  was  not  excessive ;  none  of  the  company  were  really 
drunk  before  ten  o'clock  ;  and  the  destruction  of  the  furniture  was 
a  plaisanterie  of  a  young  gentleman  from  Louth  who  was  going  into 
holy  orders,  and  might  most  probably  not  have  another  such  spree 
in  all  his  life  again.  Are  you  satisfied  ?  If  not,  tell  me  what  and 
wliere  any  other  satisfaction  may  meet  your  wishes.  You  say,  '  Let 
us  meet.'  I  reply,  '  Yes,  in  any  way  you  desire.'  Y'^ou  have  not 
answered  my  demand  —  it  was  demand,  not  request  —  to  be  Count 
M'Caskey.  I  have  written  to  Count  CaffarelU  on  the  subject,  and 
have  thoughts  of  addressing  the  king.  Don't  talk  to  me  of  decora- 
tions. I  have  no  room  for  them  on  the  breast  of  my  coat.  I  am 
forced  to  say  these  things  to  you,  for  I  cannot  persuade  myself  that 
you  really  know  or  understand  the  man  you  correspond  with.  After 
all,  it  took  Radetzky  a  year,  and  Omar  Pasha  seventeen  months,  to 
arrive  at  that  knowledge  which  my  impatience,  unjustly  perhaps, 
complains  that  you  have  not  attained  to.  Yet  I  feel  we  shall  like 
each  other ;  and  were  it  not  like  precipitancy,  I  'd  say,  believe  me, 
dear  Maitland,  very  faithfully  your  friend, 

"Miles  M'Caskey.'* 

The  answer  to  this  was  very  brief,  and  ran  thus :  — 

"Lyle  Abbey,  August. 
"  Sir,  —  You  will  come  to  Coleraine,  and  await  my  orders  there, 
—  the  first  of  which  will  be  to  take  no  liberties  of  any  kind  with 
your  obedient  servant, 

"Norman  IMaitland. 
"  Major  M'Caskey, 
"  The  Dawson  Arms,  Castle  Durrow. 

"  P.  S.  AVoid  all  English  acquaintances  on  your  road.  Give 
yourself  out  to  be  a  foreigner,  and  speak  as  Uttle  as  possible." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

maitland's  friend. 

"I  don't  think  I'll  walk  down  to  the  Burnside  with  you 
to-day,"  said  Beck  Graham  to  Maitland,  on  the  morning 
after  their  excursion. 

"And  why  not?" 

"People  have  begun  to  talk  of  our  going  off  together 
alone,  —  long  solitary  walks.  They  say  it  means  some- 
thing—  or  nothing." 

"So,  I  opine,  does  every  step  and  incident  of  our  lives." 

"Well.     You  understand  what  I  intended  to  say." 

"  Not  very  clearly,  perhaps ;  but  I  shall  wait  a  little  fur- 
ther explanation.  What  is  it  that  the  respectable  public 
imputes  to  us  ?  " 

"That  you  are  a  very  dangerous  companion  for  a  j^oung 
lady  in  a  country  walk." 

"But  am  I?  Don't  you  think  you  are  in  a  position  to 
refute   such  a  calumny?" 

"I  spoke  of  you  as  I  found  you." 

"And  how  might  that  be? " 

"  Very  amusing  at  some  moments ;  very  absent  at  others ; 
very  desirous  to  be  thought  lenient  and  charitable  in  your 
judgments  of  people,  while  evidently  thinking  the  worst  of 
every  one;  and  with  a  rare  frankness  about  yourself  that, 
to  any  one  not  very  much  interested  to  learn  the  truth,  was 
really  as  valuable  as  the  true  article." 

"But  you  never  charged  me  with  any  ungenerous  use  of 
my  advantage;  to  make  professions,  for  instance,  because  I 
found  you  alone." 

"A  little  —  a  very  little  of  that  —  there  was;  just  as  chil- 
dren stamp  on  thin  ice  and  run  away  when  they  hear  it 
crack  beneath  them." 


84  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Did  I  go  SO  far  as  that?  " 

"Yes;  and  Sally  says,  if  she  was  in  my  place,  she  'd  send 
papa  to  you  this  morning." 

"And  I  should  be  charmed  to  see  him.  There  are  no 
people  whom  I  prefer  to  naval  men.  They  have  the  fresh, 
vigorous,  healthy  tone  of  their  own  sea  life  in  all  they  say." 

"Yes;  you'd  have  found  him  vigorous  enough,  I  promise 
you." 

"And  why  did  you  consult  your  sister  at  all?" 

"I  did  not  consult  her;  she  got  all  out  of  me  by  cross- 
questioning.  She  began  by  saying,  '  That  man  is  a  mystery 
to  me ;  he  has  not  come  down  here  to  look  after  the  widow 
nor  Isabella;  he's  not  thinking  of  politics  nor  the  borough; 
there  's  no  one  here  that  he  wants  or  cares  for.  "What  can 
he  be  at?'" 

"Could  n't  you  have  told  her  that  he  was  one  of  those  men 
who  have  lived  so  much  in  the  world  it  is  a  luxury  to  them 
to  live  a  little  out  of  it?  Just  as  it  is  a  relief  to  sit  in  a 
darkened  room  after  your  eyes  have  been  dazzled  with  too 
strong  light.  Could  n't  you  have  said,  He  delights  to  talk 
and  walk  with  me,  because  he  sees  that  he  ma}^  expand 
freely,  and  say  what  comes  uppermost,  without  any  fear  of 
an  unfair  inference?  That,  for  the  same  reason, — the 
pleasure  of  an  unrestricted  intercourse, —  he  wishes  to  know 
old  Mrs.  Butler,  and  talk  with  her,  —  over  anything,  in 
short?  Just  to  keep  mind  and  faculties  moving,  —  as  a 
light  breeze  stirs  a  lake  and  prevents  stagnation?" 

"Well.  I  'm  not  going  to  perform  Zephyr,  even  in  such  a 
high  cause." 

"Could  n't  you  have  said.  We  had  a  pleasant  walk  and  a 
mild  cigarette  together,  — voila  tout?^'  said  he,  languidly. 

"I  think  it  would  be  very  easy  to  hate  you,  —  hate  you 
cordially, — Mr.  Norman  Maitland." 

"So  I've  been  told;  and  some  have  even  tried  it,  but 
always  unsuccessfully." 

"Who  is  this  wonderful  foreigner  they  are  making  so 
much  of  at  the  Castle  and  the  Viceregal  Lodge?"  cried 
Mark,  from  one  of  the  window  recesses,  where  he  was  read- 
ing a  newspaper.  "Maitland,  you  who  know  all  these 
people,  who  is  the  Prince  Caffarelli?" 


MAITLAND'S  FRIEND.  85 

*'Caffarelli!  it  must  be  the  Count,"  cried  Maitland,  hurry- 
ing over  to  see  the  paragraph.  "The  Prince  is  upwards  of 
eighty;  but  his  son,  Count  Caffarelli,  is  my  dearest  friend 
in  the  world.  What  could  have  brought  him  over  to 
Ireland?" 

"Ah!  there  is  the  very  question  he  himself  is  asking 
about  the  great  Mr.  Norman  Maitland,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford, 
smiling. 

"My  reasons  are  easily  stated.  I  had  an  admirable  friend 
who  could  secure  me  a  most  hospitable  reception.  1  came 
here  to  enjoy  the  courtesies  of  country  home  life  in  a  perfec- 
tion I  scarcely  believed  they  could  attain  to.  The  most 
unremitting  attention  to  one's  comfort,  combined  with  the 
wildest  liberty." 

"And  such  port  wine,"  interposed  the  Commodore,  "as  I 
am  free  to  say  no  other  cellar  in  the  province  can  rival." 

"Let  us  come  back  to  your  Prince  or  Count,"  said  Mark, 
"whichever  he  is.     Why  not  ask  him  down  here?  " 

"Yes;  we  have  room,"  said  Lady  Lyle;  "the  M'Clin- 
tocks  left  this  morning." 

"By  all  means,  invite  him,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Trafford;  "that 
is,  if  he  be  what  we  conjecture  the  dear  friend  of  Mr.  Mait- 
land might  and  should  be." 

"1  am  afraid  to  speak  of  him,"  said  Maitland;  "one  dis- 
serves a  friend  by  any  over-praise ;  but  at  Naples,  and  in 
his  own  set,  he  is  thought  charming." 

"I  like  Italians  myself,"  said  Colonel  Hoyle.  "I  had  a 
fellosv  1  picked  up  at  Malta,  —  a  certain  Geronimo.  i  'm 
not  sure  he  was  not  a  Maltese;  but  such  a  salad  as  he  could 
make!  There  was  everything  you  could  think  of  in  it,  — 
tomato,  eggs,  sardines,  radishes,  beetroot,  cucumber." 

"Every  Italian  is  a  bit  of  a  cook,"  said  Maitland,  reliev- 
ing adroitly  the  company  from  the  tiresome  detail  of  the 
Colonel.  "I'll  back  my  friend  Caffarelli  for  a  dish  of 
macaroni  against  all  professional  artists." 

While  the  Colonel  and  his  wife  got  into  a  hot  dispute 
whether  there  was  or  was  not  a  slight  flavor  of  parmesan  in 
the  salad,  the  others  gathered  around  Maitland  to  hear  more 
of  his  friend.  Indeed,  it  was  something  new  to  hear  of  an 
Italian  of  class  and  condition.     They  only  knew  the  nation 


86  TONY  BUTLER. 

as  tenors  or  modellers  or  language  masters.  Their  com- 
pound idea  of  Italian  was  a  thing  of  dark  skin  and  dark 
eyes;  very  careless  in  dress,  very  submissive  in  aspect, 
with  a  sort  of  subdued  fire,  however,  in  look,  that  seemed 
to  say  how  much  energy  was  only  sleeping  there!  and  when 
Maitlaud  sketched  the  domestic  ties  of  a  rich  magnate  of 
the  laud,  living  a  life  of  luxurious  indolence,  in  a  sort  of 
childlike  simplicity  as  to  what  engaged  other  men  in  other 
countries,  without  a  thought  for  questions  of  politics,  relig- 
ion, or  literature,  living  for  mere  life's  sake,  he  interested 
them  much. 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  ask  him  here,"  said  he,  at  last; 
"only  let  me  warn  you  against  disappointment.  He'll 
not  be  witty  like  a  Frenchman,  nor  profound  like  a  Ger- 
man, nor  energetic  like  an  Englishman ;  he  '11  neither  want 
to  gain  knowledge  nor  impart  it.  He  '11  only  ask  to  be 
permitted  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  a  very  charming  society 
without  any  demand  being  made  upon  him  to  contribute  any- 
thing; to  make  him  fancy,  in  short,  that  he  knew  you  all 
years  and  years  ago,  and  has  just  come  back  out  of  cloud- 
land  to  renew  the  intimacy.  Will  you  have  him  after 
this?" 

*'By  all  means,"  was  the  reply.  "Go  and  write  your 
letter  to  him." 

Maitland  went  to  his  room,  and  soon  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing;— 

"  Caro  Carlo  mio,  —  AVho'd  have  thought  of  seeing  you  in 
Ireland  ?  but  I  have  scarce  courage  to  ask  you  how  and  why  you 
came  here,  lest  you  retort  the  question  upon  myself.  For  the  mo- 
ment, however,  I  am  comfortably  established  in  a  goodish  sort  of 
country-house,  with  some  pretty  women,  and,  thank  Heaven,  no 
younsj  men  save  one  son  of  the  family,  whom  I  have  made  suffi- 
ciently afraid  of  me  to  repress  all  familiarities.  They  beg  me  to 
ask  you  here,  and  I  see  nothing  against  it.  We  eat  and  drink 
very  well.  The  place  is  healthy,  and  though  the  climate  is  detest- 
able, it  braces  and  gives  appetite.  We  shall  have,  at  all  events, 
ample  time  to  talk  over  much  that  interests  us  both,  and  so  I  say, 
Come ! 

"  The  road  is  by  Belfast,  and  thence  to  Coleraine,  where  we  shall 
take  care  to  meet  you.  I  ought  to  add  that  your  host's  name  is  Sir 
Arthur  Lyle,  an  Anglo-Indian,  but  who,  thank  your  stars  for  it  J 


MAITLAND'S  FRIEND.  87 

being  a  civilian,  has  neither  shot  tigers  nor  stuck  pigs.  It  will  also 
be  a  relief  to  you  to  learn  that  there  's  no  sport  of  any  kind  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  there  cannot  be  the  shade  of  a  pretext  for  making 
you  mount  a  horse  or  carry  a  gun,  nor  can  any  insidious  tormentor 
persecute  you  with  objects  of  interest  or  antiquity ;  and  so,  once 
again,  Come  —  and  believe  me,  ever  your  most  cordial  friend, 

"N.  Maitland. 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  be  here  by  Saturday, 
so  that,  if  nothing  contrary  is  declared,  I  shall  look  out  for  you  by 
that  day;  but  write  at  all  events." 


CHAPTER  X. 

A    BLUNDER. 

Sir  Arthur  Lyle  was  a  county  dignity,  and  somewhat 
fond  of  showing  it.  It  is  true  he  could  not  compete  with 
the  old  blood  of  the  land,  or  contest  place  with  an  O'Neil 
or  an  O'Hara;  but  his  wealth  gave  him  a  special  power, 
and  it  was  a  power  that  all  could  appreciate.  There  was  no 
mistake  about  one  who  could  head  a  subscription  by  a 
hundred  pounds,  or  write  himself  patron  of  a  school  or  a 
hospital  with  a  thousand!  And  then  his  house  was  more 
splendid,  his  servants  more  numerous,  their  liveries  finer, 
his  horses  better,  than  his  neighbors;  and  he  was  not  above 
making  these  advantages  apparent.  Perhaps  his  Indian 
experiences  may  have  influenced  his  leanings,  and  taught 
him  to  place  a  higher  value  on  show  and  all  the  details  of 
external  greatness.  On  everything  that  savored  of  a  public 
occasion,  he  came  with  all  the  pomp  and  parade  of  a  sover- 
eign. A  meeting  of  poor-law  guardians,  a  committee  of  the 
county  infirmary,  a  board  of  railway  directors,  were  all 
events  to  be  signalized  by  his  splendid  appearance. 

His  coach  and  four,  and  his  outriders  —  for  he  had  out- 
riders —  were  admirable  in  all  their  appointments.  Roy- 
alty could  not  have  swung  upon  more  perfectly  balanced 
nor  easier  springs,  nor  could  a  royal  team  have  beat  the 
earth  with  a  grander  action  or  more  measured  rhythm. 
The  harness  —  bating  the  excess  of  splendor  —  was  per- 
fect. It  was  massive  and  well-fitting.  As  for  the  servants, 
a  master  of  the  horse  could  not  have  detected  an  inaccurate 
fold  in  their  cravats,  nor  a  crease  in  their  silk  stockings. 
Let  the  world  be  as  critical  or  slighting  as  it  may,  these 
things  are  successes.  They  are  trifles  only  to  him  who  has 
not  attempted  them.     Neither  is  it  true  to  say  that  money 


A  BLUNDER,  89 

can  command  them;  for  there  is  much  in  them  that  mere 
money  cannot  do.  There  is  a  keeping  in  all  details, — a 
certain  "tone"  throughout,  and,  above  all,  a  discipline  the 
least  flaw  in  which  would  convert  a  solemn  display  into  a 
mockery. 

Neighbors  might  criticise  the  propriety  or  canvass  the 
taste  of  so  much  ostentation,  but  none,  not  the  most  sarcas- 
tic or  scrutinizing,  could  say  one  word  against  the  display 
itself;  and  so,  when  on  a  certain  forenoon  the  dense  crowd 
of  the  market-place  scattered  and  fled  right  and  left  to  make 
way  for  the  prancing  leaders  of  that  haughty  equipage,  the 
sense  of  admiration  overcame  even  the  unpleasant  feeling 
of  inferiority,  and  that  flunkeyism  that  has  its  hold  on 
humanity  felt  a  sort  of  honor  in  being  hunted  away  by  such 
magnificence. 

Through  the  large  square  —  or  Diamond,  as  the  Northerns 
love  to  call  it  —  of  the  town  they  came,  upsetting  apple- 
stalls  and  crockery-booths,  and  frightening  old  peasant 
women,  who,  with  a  goose  under  one  arm  and  a  hank  of 
yarn  under  the  other,  were  bent  on  enterprises  of  barter  and 
commerce.  Sir  Arthur  drove  up  to  the  bank,  of  which  he 
was  the  governor,  and  on  whose  steps,  to  receive  him,  now 
stood  the  other  members  of  the  board,  \yith  his  massive 
gold  watch  in  hand,  he  announced  that  the  fourteen  miles 
had  been  done  in  an  hour  and  sixteen  minutes,  and  pointed 
to  the  glossy  team,  whose  swollen  veins  stood  out  like  whip- 
cord, to  prove  that  there  was  no  distress  to  the  cattle.  The 
board  chorused  assent,  and  one  —  doubtless  an  ambitious 
man  —  actually  passed  his  hand  down  the  back  sinews  of  a 
wheeler,  and  said,  "Cool  as  spring-water,  I  pledge  my 
honor.''  Sir  Arthur  smiled  benignly,  looked  up  at  the  sky, 
gave  an  approving  look  at  the  sun  as  though  to  say,  "Not 
bad  for  Ireland,"  and  entered  the  bank. 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  in  the  same  evening  when  the 
great  man  again  appeared  at  the  same  place;  he  was  flushed 
and  weary-looking.  Some  rebellious  spirits  —  is  not  the 
world  full  of  them?  —  had  dared  to  oppose  one  of  his  ordi- 
nances. They  had  ventured  to  question  some  subsidy  that 
he  would  accord  or  refuse  to  some  local  line  of  railroad. 
The  opposition  had  deepl}^  offended    him;   and   though  he 


90  TONY  BUTLER. 

had  crushed  it,  it  had  wounded  him.  He  was  himself  the 
bank!  —  its  high  repute,  its  great  credit,  its  large  connec- 
tion, were  all  of  his  making;  and  that  same  Mr.  M'Candlish 
who  had  dared  to  oppose  him  was  a  creature  of  his  own, 
—  that  is,  he  had  made  him  a  tithe- valuator,  or  a  road- 
inspector,  or  a  stamp  distributor,  or  a  something  or  other 
of  the  hundred  petty  places  which  he  distributed  just  as  the 
monks  of  old  gave  alms  at  the  gates  of  their  convents. 

Sir  Ai'thur  whispered  a  word  to  Mr.  Boyd,  the  secretary, 
as  he  passed  downstairs.  ''How  does  M'Candlish  stand 
with  the  bank?  He  has  had  advances  lately;  send  me  a  note 
of  them."  And  thus,  bent  on  reprisals,  he  stood  waiting  for 
that  gorgeous  equipage  which  was  now  standing  fully  ready 
in  the  inn  yard,  while  the  coachman  was  discussing  a  chop 
and  a  pot  of  porter.  "Why  is  not  he  ready?"  asked  Sir 
Arthur,  impatiently. 

"He  was  getting  a  nail  in  Blenheim's  off  foreshoe,  sir," 
was  the  ready  reply;  and  as  Blenheim  was  a  blood  bay 
sixteen-three,  and  worth  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  there 
was  no  more  to  be  said ;  and  so  Sir  Arthur  saw  the  rest  of 
the  board  depart  on  jaunting-cars,  gigs,  or  dog-carts,  as  it 
might  be,  —  humble  men  with  humble  conveyances,  that 
could  take  them  to  their  homes  without  the  delays  that  wait 
upon  greatness. 

"Anything  new  stirring,  Boyd?  "  asked  Sir  Arthur,  trying 
not  to  show  that  he  was  waiting  for  the  pleasure  of  his 
coachman. 

"No,  sir;  all  dull  as  ditch-water." 

"We  want  rain,  I  fancy,  —  don't  we?" 

"We  'd  not  be  worse  for  a  little,  sir.  The  after-grass,  at 
least,  would  benefit  by  it." 

"Why  don't  you  pave  this  town  better,  Boyd?  I  'm  cer- 
tain it  was  these  rascally  stones  twisted  Blenheim's  shoe." 

"Our  corporation  will  do  nothing,  sir, — nothing,"  said 
the  other,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Who  is  that  fellow  with  the  large  whiskers,  yonder,  —  on 
the  steps  of  the  hotel?     He  looks  as  if  he  owned  the  town." 

"A  foreigner,  Sir  Arthur;  a  Frenchman  or  a  German,  I 
believe.  He  came  over  this  morning  to  ask  if  we  knew  the 
address  of  Mr.  Norman  Maitland." 


A  BLUNDER.  91 

"Count  Caffarelli,"  muttered  Sir  Arthur  to  hfmself; 
"what  a  chance  that  I  should  see  him!     How  did  he  come?  " 

''Posted,  sir;  slept  at  Cookstown  last  night,  and  came 
here  to  breakfast." 

Though  the  figure  of  the  illustrious  stranger  was  very  far 
from  what  Sir  Arthur  was  led  to  expect,  he  knew  that  per- 
sonal appearance  was  not  so  distinctive  abroad  as  in 
England,  and  so  he  began  to  con  over  to  himself  what  words 
of  French  he  could  muster,  to  make  his  advances.  Now, 
had  it  been  Hindostanee  that  was  required,  Sir  Arthur  would 
have  opened  his  negotiations  with  all  the  florid  elegance  that 
could  be  wished ;  but  French  was  a  tongue  in  which  he  had 
never  been  a  proficient,  and,  in  his  ordinary  life,  had  little 
need  of.  He  thought,  however,  that  his  magnificent  carriage 
and  splendid  horses  would  help  him  out  of  the  blunders  of 
declensions  and  genders,  and  that  what  he  wanted  in  gram- 
mar he  could  make  up  in  greatness.  "Follow  me  to 
M 'Grotty 's,"  said  he  to  his  coachman,  and  took  the  way 
across  the  square. 

Major  M'Caskey  —  for  it  was  no  other  than  that  distin- 
guished gentleman  —  was  standing  with  both  hands  in  the 
pockets  of  a  very  short  shooting-jacket,  and  a  clay  pipe 
in  his  mouth,  as  Sir  Arthur,  courteously  uncovering,  bowed 
his  way  up  the  steps,  saying  something  in  which  riionneur, 
la  felicite^  and  injinlment  Jiatte,  floated  amidst  a  number 
of  less  intelligibly  rendered  syllables,  ended  the  whole  with 
^' Ami  de  mon  ami^  M.  Norman  Maitland." 

Major  M'Caskey  raised  his  hat  straight  above  his  head 
and  replaced  it,  listening  calmly  to  the  embarrassed  at- 
tempts of  the  other,  and  then  coldly  replied  in  French,  "I 
have  the  honor  to  be  the  friend  of  M.  Maitland,  —  how 
and  when  can  I  see  him?" 

"If  you  will  condescend  to  be  my  guest,  and  allow  me  to 
offer  you  a  seat  with  me  to  Lyle  Abbey,  you  will  see  your 
friend."  And,  as  Sir  Arthur  spoke,  he  pointed  to  his  carriage. 

"  Ah,  and  this  is  yours?  Pardie!  it's  remarkably  well 
done.  I  accept  at  once.  Fetch  down  my  portmanteau  and 
the  pistol-case,"  said  he  to  a  small,  ill-looking  boy  in  a 
shabby  green  livery,  and  to  whom  he  spoke  in  a  whisper; 
while,    turning    to    Sir   Arthur,    he    resumed    his   French. 


92  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  This  I  call  a  real  piece  of  good-fortune,  —  I  was  just  say- 
ing to  myself,  '  Here  I  am ;  and  though  he  says,  Come ! 
how  are  we  to  meet?'" 

"  But  you  knew,  Count,  that  we  were  expecting  you.'* 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind.  All  1  knew  was  his  message, 
*  Come  here.'  I  had  no  anticipation  of  such  pleasant  quar- 
ters as  you  promise  me." 

Seated  in  the  post  of  honor  on  the  right  of  Sir  Arthur, 
the  Major,  by  way  of  completing  the  measure  of  his  enjoy- 
ments, asked  leave  to  smoke.  The  permission  was  cour- 
teously accorded,  and  away  they  rolled  over  the  smooth 
highway  to  the  pleasant  measure  of  that  stirring  music,  — 
the  trot  of  four  spanking  horses. 

Two  —  three  —  four  efforts  did  Sir  Arthur  make  at  con- 
versation, but  they  all  ended  in  sad  failure.  He  w^anted 
to  say  something  about  the  crops,  but  he  did  not  remember 
the  French  for  "  oats ;  "  he  wished  to  speak  of  the  road,  but 
he  knew  not  the  phrase  for  "grand  jury;  "  he  desired  to 
make  some  apology  for  a  backward  season,  but  he  might 
as  well  have  attempted  to  write  a  Greek  ode ;  and  so  he 
sat  and  smiled  and  waved  his  hand,  pointing  out  objects  of 
interest,  and  interjectionally  jerking  out,  "  Bons  —  braves  — 
tres  braves  —  but  poor  —  pauvres  —  tres  pauvres  —  light  soil 
—  legere,  you  understand,"  and  with  a  vigorous  "  hem  "  sat- 
isfied himself  that  be  had  said  something  intelligible.  After 
this  no  more  attempts  at  conversation  were  made ;  for  the 
Major  had  quietly  set  his  companion  down  for  an  intense 
bore,  and  fell  back  upon  his  tobacco  for  solace. 

"La!"  cried  the  Baronet,  after  a  long  silence  —  and  he 
pointed  with  his  finger  to  a  tall  tower,  over  which  a  large 
flag  was  waving,  about  half  a  mile  away,  —  "  La !  Notre 
chateau  —  Lyle  Abbe}^  —  moi ;  "  and  he  tapped  his  breast 
to  indicate  the  personal  interest  that  attached  to  the  spot. 

"Je  vous  en  fais  mes  compliments,"  cried  M'Caskey, 
who  chuckled  at  the  idea  of  such  quarters,  and  very  elo- 
quently went  on  to  express  the  infinite  delight  it  gave  him 
to  cultivate  relations  with  a  family  at  once  so  amiable  and 
so  distinguished.  The  happy  hazard  which  brought  him 
was  in  reality  another  tie  that  bound  him  to  the  friendship 
of    that  "  Cher    Maitland."     Delivered   of   this,  the  Major 


A  BLUNDER.  93 

emptied  his  pipe,  replaced  it  in  its  case,  and  then,  taking 
ott"  his  hat,  ran  his  hands  through  his  hair,  arranged  his 
shirt-collar,  and  made  two  or  three  other  efforts  at  an  im- 
provised toilet. 

''We  are  late  —  en  retard  —  I  think,"  said  Sir  Arthur, 
as  they  drew  up  at  the  door,  where  two  sprucely  dressed 
servants  stood  to  receive  them.  ''AVe  dme — at  eight  — 
eight,"  said  he,  pointing  to  that  figure  on  his  watch. 
*'  You  '11  have  only  time  to  dross,  — dress ;  "  and  he  touched 
the  lappet  of  his  coat,  for  he  was  fairly  driven  to  panto- 
mime to  express  himselfo  ''  Hailes,*'  cried  he  to  a  ser- 
vant in  discreet  black,  '"show  the  Count  to  his  room,  and 
attend  to  him;  his  own  man  has  not  come  on,  it  seems-," 
and  then,  with  many  bows  and  smiles  and  courteous  ges- 
tures, consigned  his  distinguished  guest  to  the  care  of  Mr. 
Hailes,   and   walked   hurriedly   upstairs  to   his  own  room. 

*'  Such  a  day  as  I  have  had,"  cried  he,  as  he  entered  the 
dressing-room,  where  Lady  Lyle  was  seated  with  a  French 
novel.  "Those  fellows  at  the  bank,  led  on  by  that  crea- 
ture M'Candlish,  had  the  insolence  to  move  an  amendment 
to  that  motion  of  mine  about  the  drainage  loan.  1  almost 
thought  they  'd  have  given  me  a  fit  of  apoplexy ;  but  I 
crushed  them  :  and  I  told  Boyd,  'If  I  see  any  more  of 
this,  I  don't  care  from  what  quarter  it  comes,  —  if  these 
insolences  be  repeated.  —  I  11  resign  the  direction.  It's 
no  use  making  excuses,  pleading  that  you  misunderstood 
this  or  mistook  that,  Boyd,'  said  I.  '  If  it  occurs  again, 
I  go.'  And  then,  as  if  this  was  not  enough,  I  've  had 
to  talk  Frencii  all  the  way  out.  By  the  way,  where 's 
Maitland  ?  " 

"Talk  French!    what  do  you  mean   by   that?" 

"Where's  Maitland,   I  say?" 

"He's  gone  off  with  Mark  to  Larne.  They  said  they  'd 
not  be  back  to  dinner." 

"  Here's  more  of  it;  we  shall  have  this  foreign  fellow  on 
our  hands  till  he  comes,  — this  Italian  Count.  I  found  him 
at  M'Grotty's,  and  brought  him  back  with  me." 

"  And  what  is  he  like?  is  he  as  captivating  as  his  portrait 
bespeaks  ? " 

"He  IS,  to  my  mind,  as  vulgar  a  dog  as  ever  I  met:  he 


94  TONY  BUTLER. 

smoked  beside  me  all  the  road,  though  he  saw  how  his  vile 
tobacco  set  me  a-coughing ;  and  he  stretched  his  legs  over 
the  front  seat  of  the  carriage,  where,  I  promise  you,  his 
boots  have  left  their  impress  on  the  silk  lining  ;  and  he  poked 
his  cane  at  Crattle's  wig,  and  made  some  impertinent  remark 
which  I  could  n't  catch.  I  never  was  very  enthusiastic  about 
foreigners,  and  the  present  specimen  has  not  made  a  convert 
of  me." 

"  Maitland  likes  him,"  said  she,  languidly. 

*'  Well,  then,  it  is  an  excellent  reason  not  to  like  Maitland. 
There 's  the  second  bell  already.  By  the  way,  this  Count, 
I  suppose,  takes  you  in  to  dinner?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,  and  it  is  very  unpleasant,  for  I  am  out  of 
the  habit  of  talking  French.  I  '11  make  Alice  sit  on  the  other 
side  of  him  and  entertain  him." 

The  news  that  the  distinguished  Italian  friend  of  Mr. 
Norman  Maitland  had  arrived  created  a  sort  of  sensation  in 
the  house ;  and  as  the  guests  dropped  into  the  drawing-room 
before  dinner,  there  was  no  other  topic  than  the  Count.  The 
door  at  last  opened  for  his  entree ;  and  he  came  in  un- 
announced, the  servant  being  probably  unable  to  catch  the 
name  he  gave.  In  the  absence  of  her  father  and  mother, 
Mrs.  Trafford  did  the  honors,  and  received  him  most  courte- 
ously, presenting  the  other  guests  to  him,  or  him  to  them, 
as  it  might  be.  When  it  came  to  the  turn  of  the  Commodore, 
he  started,  and  muttered,  "  Eh,  very  like,  the  born  image  of 
him  !  "  and  coloring  deeply  at  his  own  awkwardness,  mumbled 
out  a  few  unmeaning  commonplaces.  As  for  the  Major,  he 
eyed  him  with  one  of  his  steadiest  stares, — unflinching,  un- 
blenching;  and  even  said  to  Mrs.  Trafford  in  a  whisper,  "  I 
didn't  catch  the  name;  was  it  Green  you  said?"  Seated 
between  Lady  Lyle  and  Mrs.  Trafford,  M'Caskey  felt  that 
he  was  the  honored  guest  of  the  evening  :  Maitland's  absence, 
so  feelingly  deplored  by  the  others,  gave  him  little  regret ; 
indeed,  instinct  told  him  that  they  were  not  men  to  like  each 
other,  and  he  was  all  the  happier  that  he  had  the  field  for  a 
while  his  own.  It  was  not  a  very  easy  task  to  be  the  pleas- 
ant riian  of  an  Irish  country-house,  in  a  foreign  tongue ;  but 
if  any  man  could  have  success,  it  was  M'Caskey.  The  in- 
cessant play  of  his  features,  the  varied  tones  of  his  voice. 


A  BLUNDER.  96 

his  extraordinary  gestures,  appealed  to  those  who  could  not 
follow  his  words,  and  led  them  very  often  to  join  in  the 
laughter  which  his  sallies  provoked  from  others.  He  was,  it 
is  true,  the  exact  opposite  to  all  they  had  been  led  to  expect, 
—  he  was  neither  well-looking,  nor  distinguished,  nor  con- 
ciliatory in  manner,  —  there  was  not  a  trace  of  that' insinua- 
ting softness  and  gentleness  Maitland  had  spoken  of,  —  he 
was,  even  to  those  who  could  not  follow  his  speech,  one  of 
the  most  coolly  unabashed  fellows  they  had  ever  met,  and 
made  himself  at  home  with  a  readiness  that  said  much  more 
for  his  boldness  than  for  his  breeding ;  and  yet,  withal,  each 
was  pleased  in  turn  to  see  how  he  out-talked  some  heretofore 
tyrant  of  conversation,  how  impudently  he  interrupted  a  bore, 
and  how  mercilessly  he  pursued  an  antagonist  whom  he  had 
vanquished.  It  is  not  at  all  improbable,  too,  that  he  owed 
something  of  his  success  to  that  unconquerable  objection 
people  feel  at  confessing  that  they  do  not  understand  a  for- 
eign language,  —  the  more  when  that  language  is  such  a  cog- 
nate one  as  French.  What  a  deal  of  ecstasy  does  not  the 
polite  world  expend  upon  German  drama  and  Italian  tragedy, 
and  how  frequently  are  people  moved  to  every  imaginable 
emotion,  without  the  slightest  clew  to  the  intention  of  the 
charmer !  If  he  was  great  at  the  dinner-table,  he  was  greater 
in  the  drawing-room.  Scarcely  was  coffee  served  than  he 
was  twanking  away  with  a  guitar,  and  siniring  a  Spanish 
muleteer  song,  with  a  jingling  imitation  of  bells  for  the  ac- 
companiment ;  or  seated  at  the  piano,  he  carolled  out  a  French 
canzonette  descriptive  of  soldier  life,  far  more  picturesque 
than  it  was  proper ;  and  all  this  time  there  was  the  old  Com- 
modore cruising  above  and  below  him,  eying  and  watching 
him, — growing  perfectly  feverish  with  the  anxiety  of  his 
doubts,  and  yet  unable  to  confirm  or  refute  them.  It  was  a 
suspicious  craft ;  he  felt  that  he  had  seen  it  before,  and 
knew  the  rig  well,  and  yet  he  was  afraid  to  board  and  say, 
"  Let  me  look  at  your  papers." 

"  I  say.  Beck,  just  go  slyly  up  and  say  something  acci- 
dentally about  Barbadoes ;  don't  ask  any  questions,  but  re- 
mark that  the  evening  is  close,  or  the  sky  threatening,  or 
the  air  oppressive,  just  as  it  used  to  be  before  a  tornado 
there."     The   old    sailor   watched   her,    as    he    might    have 


96  TONY  BUTLER. 

watched  a  boat-party  on  a  cutting-out  expedition ;  he  saw 
her  draw  nigh  the  piano ;  he  thought  he  could  trace  all  the 
ingenious  steps  by  which  she  neared  her  object ;  and  he  was 
convinced  that  she  had  at  last  thrown  the  shell  on  board 
him ;  but  what  was  his  grievous  disappointment,  as  he  saw 
that  the  little  fellow  had  turned  to  her  with  a  look  of  warm- 
est admiration,  and  actually  addressed  a  very  ardent  love- 
song  to  the  eyes  that  were  then  bent  upon  him.  The 
Commodore  made  signals  to  cease  firing  and  fall  back,  but 
in  vain.  She  was  too  deeply  engaged  to  think  of  orders ; 
and  there  she  stood  to  be  admired  and  worshipped  and 
adored,  in  all  the  moods  and  tenses  of  a  French  "  romance." 
But  Miss  Rebecca  Graham  was  not  the  only  victim  of  the 
Major's  captivations ;  gradually  the  whole  company  of  the 
drawing-room  had  gathered  round  the  piano,  some  to  wonder, 
some  to  laugh  at,  some  to  feel  amused  by,  and  not  a  few  to 
feel  angry  with,  that  little  fiery-eyed,  impertinent-looking 
fellow,  who  eyed  the  ladies  so  languishingly,  and  stared  at 
the  men  as  if  asking,  "Who'll  quarrel  with  me?"  You 
might  not  like,  but  it  was  impossible  to  ignore  him.  There 
was,  too,  in  his  whole  air  and  bearing  a  conscious  sense  of 
power,  —  a  sort  of  bold  self-reliance,  —  that  dignifies  even 
impudence ;  and  as  he  sat  in  his  chair  with  head  up  and 
hands  vigorously  striking  the  chords  of  the  piano,  he  looked, 
as  it  is  by  no  means  improbable  that  he  felt,  "M'Caskey 
against  the  field."  It  was  in  the  midst  of  hearty  applause 
at  a  song  he  had  just  completed,  that  Maitland  entered  the 
room.  In  the  hall  he  had  learned  from  the  servants  that  bis 
foreign  friend  had  arrived,  and  he  hurried  forward  to  greet 
him.  Rather  puzzled  at  the  vociferous  gayety  of  the  com- 
pany, he  made  his  way  through  the  crowd  and  approached 
the  piano,  and  then  stood  staring  on  every  side,  to  find  out 
his  friend.  Though  he  saw  the  Major,  his  eye  only  rested 
passingly  on  him,  as  it  ranged  eagerly  to  catch  the  features 
of  another. 

"  He  's  very  amusing,  though  not  in  the  least  what  you 
led  us  to  expect,"  whispered  Mrs.  Trafford. 
"  Who  is  it  of  whom  you  are  speaking?  " 
*'  Your  friend  yonder,  the  Count  Caffarelli." 
''What  —  that  man?"  cried  Maitland,  as   he  grew  pale 


A  BLUNDER.  97 

with  passion ;  and  now,  pushing  forward,  he  leaned  over 
the  back  of  the  music-stool,  and  whispered,  "  Who  are  you 
that  call  yourself  Count  Caffarelli?  " 

"  Is  your  name  Maitlaud?"  said  the  other,  with  perfect 
coolness. 

"Yes." 

"  Mine  is  M'Caskey,  sir." 

"  And  by  what  presumption  do  I  find  you  here?  " 

''This  is  not  the  place  nor  the  moment  for  explanations; 
but  if  you  want  or  prefer  exposures,  don't  balk  your  fancy. 
I  'm  as  ready  as  you  are." 

Maitland  reeled  back  as  if  from  a  blow,  and  looked  posi- 
tively ill ;  and  then  laughingly  turning  to  the  company,  he 
said  some  common-place  words  about  his  ill  luck  in  being 
late  to  hear  the  last  song. 

''\Yell,  it  must  be  the  last  for  to-night,"  said  Mr. 
M'Caskey,  rising.  "  I  have  really  imposed  too  much  upon 
every  one's  forbearance." 

After  a  little  of  the  usual  skirmishing,  —  the  entreaties 
and  the  coy  refusals,  the  recollection  of  that  charming 
thing  you  sang  for  us  at  Woodpark,  and  the  doubts  lest 
they  had  brought  no  music  with  them,  ■ —  the  Misses  Graham 
sat  down  to  one  of  those  duets  which  every  one  in  P2ngland 
seems  able  to  compose  and  to  sing ;  lackadaisical  ditties 
adapted  to  the  humblest  musical  proficiency,  and  unfor- 
tunately, too,  the  very  narrowest  intelligences.  While  the 
remainder  of  the  company,  after  a  brief  moment  of  silence, 
resumed  conversation,  Major  M'Caskey  stepped  unobserved 
from  the  room,  —  by  all,  at  least,  but  b}^  Maitland,  who 
speedily  followed  him,  and,  led  by  the  sound  of  his  footsteps 
along  the  corridor,  tracked  him  through  the  great  hall. 
M'Caskey  was  standing  on  the  lawn,  and  in  the  act  of  light- 
ing his  cigar,  as  Maitland  came  up. 

"Explain  this  intrusion  here,  sir,  now,  if  you  can,"  cried 
Maitland,  as  he  walked  straight  towards  him. 

"If  you  want  any  explanations  from  me,  you'll  have  to 
ask  for  them  more  suitably,"  said  the  other,  coldly. 

"  I  desire  to  know,  under  what  pretence  you  assume  a 
name  and  rank  you  have  no  right  to,  to  obtain  admission  to 
this  house?" 

7 


98  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  Your  question  is  easily  answered :  your  instructions  to 
me  were,  on  my  arrival  at  Coleraine,  to  give  myself  out  for 
a  foreigner,  and  not  to  speak  English  with  any  one.  I  have 
your  note  in  my  desk,  and  think  there  can  be  no  mistake 
about  its  meaning." 

''Well,  well;  I  know  all  that:  go  on,"  cried  Maitland, 
impatiently. 

M'Caskey  smiled,  half  insolently,  at  this  show  of  temper, 
and  continued:  "  It  was,  then,  in  my  assumed  character  of 
Frenchman,  Spaniard,  Italian,  or  whatever  you  wish,  —  for 
they  are  pretty  much  alike  to  me,  —  I  was  standing  at  the 
door  of  the  inn,  when  a  rather  pompous  old  fellow,  with  two 
footmen  after  him,  came  up,  and  in  some  execrable  French 
endeavored  to  accost  me,  mingling  your  name  in  his  jargon, 
and  inviting  me,  as  well  as  his  language  would  permit,  to 
return  with  him  to  his  house.  What  was  I  to  conclude  but 
that  the  arrangement  was  yours?  indeed,  I  never  gave  a 
doubt  to  it." 

"  When  he  addressed  you  as  the  Count  Caffarelli,  you 
might  have  had  such  a  doubt,"  said  Maitland,  sneeringly. 

"  He  called  me  simply  Count,"  was  the  reply. 

*'  Well ;  so  far  well :  there  was  no  assumption  of  a  name, 
at  least." 

"None  whatever;  and  if  there  had  been,  would  the 
offence  have  seemed  to  you  so  very  —  very  unpardonable  ?  " 
It  is  not  easy  to  convey  the  intense  impertinence  given  to 
the  delivery  of  this  speech  by  the  graduated  slowness  of 
every  word,  and  the  insolent  composure  with  which  it  was 
spoken. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  this  —  this  insinuation?" 
cried  Maitland. 

"  Insinuation  !  —  it's  none.  It  is  a  mere  question  as  to  a 
matter  of  good  taste  or  good  morals." 

"  I  have  no  time  for  such  discussions,  sir,"  said  Maitland, 
hotly.  "  I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  blunder  by  which  you 
came  here  was  not  of  your  own  provoking,  though  I  cannot 
see  how  it  makes  the  explanation  less  difficult  to  myself." 

"What  is  your  difficulty,  may  I  ask?"  cried  M'Caskey, 
coolly. 

"Is  it  no  difficulty  that  I  must  explain  how  I  know  —  " 


A  BLUNDER.  99 

and  he  stopped  suddenly,  just  as  a  man  might  stop  on  the 
verge  of  a  precipice,  and  look  horror-struck  down  into  tho 
depth  below  him.  "  I  mean,"  said  he,  recovering  himself, 
*'  that  to  enter  upon  the  question  of  our  relations  to  each 
other  would  open  tlie  discussion  of  matters  essentially  secret. 
When  I  have  said  I  know  you,  the  next  question  will  be, 
'Who  is  he?'" 

*'  Well,  what  is  the  difficulty  there  ?  I  am  Graf  M'Caskey, 
in  Bavaria;  Count  of  Serra-major,  in  Sicily;  Commander  of 
the  Order  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  and  a  Knight  of  Malta. 
1  mention  these,  for  I  have  the  '  brevets '  with  me." 

"  Very  true,"  said  Maitland  ;  "but  you  are  also  the  same 
Lieutenant  Miles  M^Caskey,  who  served  in  the  2d  West 
Indian  Regiment,  and  who  left  a  few  unsettled  matters 
between  him  and  the  Government  there,  when  he  quitted 
Barbadoes." 

"  And  which  they  won't  rake  up,  I  promise  you,  if  they 
don't  want  to  hang  an  ex-governor,"  said  he,  laughing. 
*'  But  none  of  us,  Mr.  Maitland,  will  stand  such  investiga- 
tions as  these.  There 's  a  statute  of  limitations  for  morals 
as  well  as  for  small  debts." 

Maitland  winced  under  the  insolent  look  of  the  other,  and 
in  a  tone  somewhat  shaken,  continued,  "  At  all  events  it  will 
not  suit  me  to  open  these  inquiries.  The  only  piece  of  good 
fortune  in  the  whole  is  that  there  was  none  here  who  knew 
you." 

"  I  am  not  so  very  sure  of  that,  though,"  said  the  Major, 
with  a  quiet  laugh. 

"  How  so?  what  do  you  mean?  " 

"Why,  that  there  is  an  old  fellow  whom  I  remember  to 
have  met  on  the  West  Indian  Station ;  he  was  a  lieutenant,  I 
think,  on  board  the  *  Dwarf,'  and  he  looked  as  if  he  were 
puzzled  about  me." 

"  Gambler  Graham?  " 

"  That 's  the  man  ;  he  followed  me  about  all  night,  till  some 
one  carried  him  off  to  play  cribbage ;  but  he  'd  leave  his 
game  every  now  and  then  to  come  and  stare  at  me,  till  I 
gave  him  a  look  that  said,  '  If  you  do  that  again,  we  '11  have 
a  talk  over  it  in  the  morning.'" 

"To  prevent  which  you  must  leave  this  to-night,  sir,"  said 


100  TONY  BUTLER. 

Maitland.     "  I  am   not  in   the  habit  of  carrying  followers 
about  with  me  to  the  country-houses  where  I  visit." 

A  very  prolonged  whistle  was  JNI'Caskey's  first  reply  to 
this  speech,  and  then  he  said :  "They  told  me  you  were  one 
of  the  cleverest  fellows  in  Europe,  but  I  don't  believe  a 
word  of  it ;  for  if  you  were,  you  would  never  try  to  play  the 
game  of  bully  with  a  man  of  my  stamp.  Bigger  men  than 
Mr.  Norman  Maitland  have  tried  that,  and  did  n't  come  so 
well  out  of  it." 

An  insolent  toss  of  the  head,  as  he  threw  away  his  cigar, 
was  all  Maitland's  answer.  At  last  he  said,  "  I  suppose, 
sir,  you  cannot  wish  to  drive  me  to  say  that  I  do  not  know 
you?" 

"  It  would  be  awkward,  certainly  ;  for  then  I  'd  be  obliged 
to  declare  that  I  do  know  you." 

Instantly  Maitland  seized  the  other's  arm ;  but  M'Caskey, 
though  not  by  any  means  so  strong  a  man,  flung  off  the 
grasp,  and  started  back,  saying,  "Hands  off,  or  I'll  put  a 
bullet  through  you.  We  've  both  of  us  lived  long  enough 
amongst  foreigners  to  know  that  these  are  liberties  that  cost 
blood." 

"This  is  very  silly  and  very  unprofitable,"  said  Maitland, 
with  a  ghastly  attempt  at  a  smile.  "  There  ought  not,  there 
cannot  be,  any  quarrel  between  you  and  me.  Though  it  is 
no  fault  of  yours  that  this  blunder  has  occurred,  the  mistake 
has  its  unpleasant  side,  and  may  lead  to  some  embarrassment, 
the  more  as  this  old  sea-captain  is  sure  to  remember  you 
if  you  meet  again.  There's  only  one  thing  for  it,  therefore-, 
—  get  away  as  fast  as  you  can.  I'll  supply  the  pretext, 
and  show  Sir  Arthur  in  confidence  how  the  whole  affair 
occurred." 

M'Caskey  shook  his  head  dubiously.  "  This  is  not  to  my 
liking,  sir ;  it  smacks  of  a  very  ignominious  mode  of  retreat. 
I  am  to  leave  myself  to  be  discussed  by  a  number  of  perhaps 
not  over-favorable  critics,  and  defended  by  one  who  even 
shrinks  from  saying  he  knows  me.  No,  no;  I  can't  do 
this." 

"But  remember  you  are  not  the  person  to  whom  these 
people  meant  to  offer  their  hospitality." 

"  I  am  ]Major  Miles  M'Caskey,"  said  he,  drawing  himself 


A  BLUNDER.  101 

np  to  the  full  height  of  his  five  feet  four  inches ;  "  and  there 
is  no  mistake  whatever  in  any  consideration  that  is  shown  to 
the  man  who  owns  that  name." 

"  Yes,  but  why  are  you  here,  —  how  have  you  come?  " 

"  I  came  by  the  host's  invitation,  and  I  look  to  you  to 
explain  how  the  blunder  occurred,  and  to  recognize  me  after- 
wards.    That  is  what  I  expect,  and  what  T  insist  on." 

"And  if  your  old  friend  the  Commodore,  whose  memory 
for  ugly  anecdotes  seems  inexhaustible,  comes  out  with  any 
unpleasant  reminiscences  of  West  Indian  life  —  " 

"  Leave  that  to  me,  Mr.  Norman  Maitland.  I  '11  take  care 
to  see  my  friend,  as  you  call  him,  and  I  '11  offer  you  a  trifling 
wager  he  '11  not  be  a  whit  more  anxious  to  claim  my  acquaint- 
ance than  you  are." 

"  You  appear  to  have  no  small  reliance  on  your  powers  of 
intimidation,  Major,"  said  Maitland,  with  a  sneering  smile. 

''  They  have  never  failed  me,  for  I  have  always  backed 
them  with  a  very  steady  hand  and  a  correct  eye,  both  of 
which  are  much  at  your  service." 

Maitland  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed  an  acknowledgment. 

"  I  think  we  are  losing  our  time,  each  of  us,  Major 
M'Caskey.  There  need  be  no  question  of  etiquette  here. 
You  are,  if  I  understand  the  matter  aright,  under  my  orders. 
Well,  sir,  these  orders  are,  that  you  now  start  for  Castle 
Durrow,  and  be  prepared  by  Tuesday  next  to  make  me  a 
full  report  of  your  proceedings,  and  produce  for  me,  if 
necessary,  the  men  you  have  engaged." 

The  change  effected  in  the  Major's  manner  at  these  words 
was  magical ;  he  touched  his  hat  in  salute,  and  listened  with 
all  show  of  respect. 

"It  is  my  intention,  if  satisfied  with  your  report,  to 
recommend  you  for  the  command  of  the  legion,  with  the 
rank  of  Lieutenant-Colonel,"  continued  Maitland;  "and  I 
have  already  written  about  those  advances  you  mentioned." 

"I'll  take  care  that  3'ou  are  satisfied  with  me,"  said 
M'Caskey.  respectfully;   "I'll  start  within  half   an  hour." 

"  This  is  all  as  it  should  be.  I  hope  it  is  our  first  and  last 
misunderstanding ;  "  and  he  held  out  his  hand  frankly,  which 
the  other  grasped  and  shook  cordially.  "  How  are  you  off 
for  ready  cash?     Treat  me  as  a  comrade,  and  say  freely." 


102  TONY  BUTLER. 

**  Not  over  flush,  but  I  suppose  I  can  rub  on,"  said  the 
Major,  with  some  confusion. 

"I  have  some  thirty  sovereigns  here,"  said  Maitland ; 
"take  them,  and  we'll  settle  all  when  we  meet." 

M'Caskey  put  the  purse  in  his  pocket,  and,  with  the 
uneasy  consciousness  of  a  man  ashamed  of  what  he  was 
doing,  muttered  out  a  few  unmeaning  words  of  thanks,  and 
said,  ''Good-bye!  " 

''  These  condottieri  rascals  have  been  troublesome  fellows 
in  all  ages,"  said  Maitland,  as  he  smoked  away  alone  ;  "  and 
I  suspect  they  are  especially  unsuited  to  our  present-day  life 
and  its  habits.     I  must  rid  myself  of  the  Major." 


CHAPTER  XI. 


EXPLANATIONS. 


By  the  time  Maitland  had  despatched  his  man  Fenton  to 
meet  Count  Caffarelli,  and  prevent  his  coming  to  Lyle 
Abbey,  where  his  presence  would  be  sure  to  occasion  much 
embarrassment,  the  company  had  retired  to  their  rooms, 
and  all  was  quiet. 

Though  Mark  was  curious  to  know  why  and  how  Maitland 
had  disappeared  with  his  foreign  friend,  he  had  grown  tired 
thinking  over  it,  and  fallen  sound  asleep.  Nor  did  he  hear 
Maitland  as  he  entered  the  room  and  drew  nigh  his  bedside. 

''What's  wrong,  —  what  has  happened?"  cried  Mark,  as 
he  started  up  suddenly  on  his  bed. 

"  Nothing  very  serious,  but  still  something  worth  waking 
you  for ;  but  are  you  sure  you  are  awake?  " 

''  Yes,  yes,  perfectly.  What  is  it  all  about?  Who  are  in 
it?" 

'*  We  are  all  in  it,  for  the  matter  of  that,"  said  Maitland, 
with  a  quiet  laugh.  "  Try  and  listen  to  me  attentively  for  a 
couple  of  minutes.  The  man  your  father  brought  back  with 
him  from  Coleraine,  believing  him  to  be  my  friend  Caffarelli, 
was  not  Caffarelli  at  all !  " 

'*  What!    And  he  pretended  to  be?" 

*'  No  such  thing  :  hear  me  out.  Your  father  spoke  to  him 
in  French ;  and  finding  out  —  I  don't  exactly  know  how  — 
that  he  and  I  were  acquaintances,  rushed  at  once  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  must  be  Caffarelli.  I  conclude  that  the 
interview  was  not  made  more  intelligible  to  either  party  by 
being  carried  on  in  French ;  but  the  invitation  so  frankly 
given  was  as  freely  accepted.  The  stranger  came,  dined, 
and  was  here  in  the  drawing-room  when  we  came  back." 

"  This  is  unpardonable.     Who  is  he?     What  is  he?  " 


104  TONY   BUTLER. 

"  He  is  a  gentleman.  I  believe,  as  well  born  as  either  of  us. 
I  know  something  —  not  much  —  about  him,  but  there  are  cir- 
cumstances which,  in  a  manner,  prevent  me  from  talking  of 
him.  He  came  down  to  this  part  of  the  world  to  see  me, 
though  I  never  intended  it  should  have  been  here." 

"  Then  his  intrusion  here  was  not  sanctioned  by  you?  " 

"  No.     It  was  all  your  father's  doing." 

''My  father's  doing,  if  you  like,  Maitland,  but  concurred 
in  and  abetted  by  this  man,  whoever  he  is." 

"  I'll  not  even  say  that;  he  assures  me  tliat  he  accepted 
the  invitation  in  the  belief  that  the  arrangement  was  made 
by  me." 

"  And  you  accept  that  explanation?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  I  see  nothing  in  it  in  the  smallest  degree 
improbable  or  unlikely." 

"  Well,  who  is  he?  That  is  the  main  point ;  for  it  is  clear 
you  do  not  wish  us  to  receive  him  as  a  friend  of  yours." 

"  I  say  1  'd  not  have  presented  him  here,  certainly  ;  but  I  '11 
not  go  the  length  of  saying  he  could  n't  have  been  known  by 
any  one  in  this  house.  He  is  one  of  those  adventurous  fellows 
whose  lives  must  not  be  read  with  the  same  glasses  as  those  of 
quieter  people.  He  has  knocked  about  the  world  for  some 
five-and-twenty  years,  without  apparentl}^  having  found  his 
corner  in  it  yet.  I  wanted  him,  —  what  for,  I  shall  probably 
tell  you  one  of  these  days,  —  and  some  friends  of  mine  found 
him  out  for  me  !  " 

"  One  of  3^our  mysteries,  Maitland,"  said  Mark,  laughing. 

"  Yes,' one  of  my  mysteries  !  " 

"  Of  what  nation  is  he?" 

"  There,  again,  I  must  balk  your  curiosity.  The  fact  is, 
Mark,  I  can  explain  nothing  about  this  man  without  going 
into  matters  which  I  am  solemnly  bound  not  to  reveal. 
What  T  liave  to  ask  from  j^ou  is  that  you  will  explain  to 
your  father,  and  of  course  to  Lady  Lyle  and  your  sisters, 
the  mistake  that  has  occurred,  and  request  that  they  will 
keep  it  a  secret.  He  has  already  gone,  so  that  your  guests 
will  probably  not  discuss  him  after  a  day  or  two." 

''Not  even  so  much,  for  there 's  a  break-up.  Old  Mrs. 
Maxwell  has  suddenly  discovered  tliat  her  birthday  will 
fall  on  next  Friday,    and    she    insists  upon   going  back  to 


EXPLANATIONS.  105 

Tilney  Park  to  entertain  the  tenantry,  and  give  a  ball  to 
the  servants.  Most  of  the  people  here  accompany  her,  and 
Isabella  and  myself  are  obliged  to  go.  Each  of  ns  expects 
to  be  her  heir,  and  we  have  to  keep  out  competitors  at  all 
hazards." 

"  Why  has  she  never  thought  of  me?"  said  Maitland. 

"  She  means  to  invite  you,  at  all  events ;  for  I  heard  her 
consulting  my  mother  how  so  formidable  a  personage  should 
be  approached,  —  whether  she  ought  to  address  you  in  a 
despatch,  or  ask  for  a  conference." 

"If  a  choice  be  given  me,  I  '11  stay  where  I  am.  The 
three  days  I  promised  you  have  grown  nearer  to  three  weeks, 
and  I  do  not  see  the  remotest  chance  of  your  getting  rid 
of  me." 

""Will  you  promise  me  to  stay  till  I  tell  you  we  want  your 
rooms?  " 

"Ah,  my  dear  fellow,  you  don't  know  —  you  couldn't 
know  —  what  very  tempting  words  you  are  uttering.  This 
is  such  a  charming,  charming  spot,  to  compose  that  novel 
I  am  —  not  —  writing  —  that  I  never  mean  to  leave  till  I 
have  finished  it;  but,  seriously,  speaking  like  an  old  friend, 
am  I  a  bore  here?  am  I  occupying  the  place  that  is  wanted 
for  another  ?  are  they  tired  of  me  ?  " 

Mark  overwhelmed  his  friend  with  assurances,  very  honest 
in  the  main,  that  they  were  only  too  happy  to  possess  him 
as  their  guest,  and  felt  no  common  pride  in  the  fact  that  he 
could  find  his  life  there  endurable.  "  I  will  own  now,"  says 
he,  "that  there  was  a  considerable  awe  of  you  felt  before 
you  came;  but  you  have  lived  down  the  fear,  and  become  a 
positive  favorite." 

"  But  who  could  have  given  such  a  version  of  me  as  to 
inspire  this?  " 

"I  am  afraid  I  was  the  culprit,"  said  Mark.  "I  was 
rather  boastful  about  knowing  you  at  all,  and  I  suppose  I 
frightened  them." 

"]My  dear  Lyle,  what  a  narrow  escape  I  had  of  being 
positively  odious!  and  I  now  see  with  what  consummate 
courtesy  my  caprices  have  been  treated,  when  really  I  never 
so  much  as  suspected  they  had  been  noticed." 

There  was  a  touch  of  sincerity  in  his  accent  as  he  spoke, 


106  TONY  BUTLER. 

that  vouched  for  the  honesty  of  his  meaning ;  and  Mark,  as 
he  looked  at  him,  muttered  to  himself,  "This  is  the  man 
they  call  an  egotist,  and  who  is  only  intent  on  taking  his 
turn  out  of  all  around  him." 

"I  think  I  must  let  you  go  to  sleep  again,  Mark,"  said 
Maitland,  rising.  "I  am  a  wretched  sleeper  myself,  and 
quite  forget  that  there  are  happy  fellows  who  can  take  their 
ten  hours  of  oblivion  without  any  help  from  the  druggist. 
Without  this  "  —  and  he  drew  a  small  phial  from  his 
waistcoat-pocket  —  "I  get  no  rest." 

"What  a  bad  habit!" 

"Isn't  almost  everything  we  do  a  bad  habit?  Have  we 
ever  a  humor  that  recurs  to  us,  that  is  not  a  bad  habit? 
Are  not  the  simple  things  which  mean  nothing  in  themselves 
an  evil  influence  when  they  grow  into  requirements  and 
make  slaves  of  us?  I  suppose  it  was  a  bad  habit  that  made 
me  a  bad  sleeper,  and  I  turn  to  another  bad  habit  to 
correct  it.  The  only  things  which  are  positively  bad  habits 
are  those  that  require  an  effort  to  sustain,  or  will  break 
down  under  us  without  we  struggle  to  support  them.  To 
be  morose  is  not  one  jot  a  worse  habit  than  to  be  agree- 
able; for  the  time  will  come  when  you  are  indisposed  to 
be  pleasant,  and  the  company  in  which  you  find  yourself 
are  certain  to  deem  the  humor  as  an  offence  to  themselves; 
but  there  is  a  worse  habit  than  this,  which  is  to  go  on 
talking  to  a  man  whose  eyes  are  closing  with  sleep. 
Good-night." 

Maitland  said  no  more  than  the  truth  when  he  declared 
how  happy  he  found  himself  in  that  quiet  unmolested 
existence  which  he  led  at  Lyle  Abbey.  To  be  free  in  every 
way,  to  indulge  his  humor  to  be  alone  or  in  company,  to 
go  and  come  as  he  liked,  were  great  boons;  but  they  were 
even  less  than  the  enjoyment  he  felt  in  living  amongst  total 
strangers,  —  persons  who  had  never  known,  never  heard  of 
him,  for  whom  he  was  not  called  on  to  make  any  effort  or 
support  any  character. 

No  man  ever  felt  more  acutely  the  slavery  that  comes  of 
sustaining  a  part  before  the  world,  and  being  as  strange  and 
as  inexplicable  as  people  required  he  should  be.  While  a 
very  young  man,  it  amused  him  to  trifle  in  this  fashion, 


EXPLANATIONS.  107 

and  to  set  absurd  modes  afloat  for  imitation;  and  he  took 
a  certain  spiteful  pleasure  in  seeing  what  a  host  of  followers 
mere  eccentricity  could  command.  As  he  grew  older,  he 
wearied  of  this,  and,  to  be  free  of  it,  wandered  away  to 
distant  and  unvisited  countries,  trying  the  old  and  barren 
experiment  whether  new  sensations  might  not  make  a  new 
nature.  Ccelum  non  animum  rmUant^  says  the  adage;  and 
he  came  back  pretty  much  as  he  went,  with  this  only  differ- 
ence, that  he  now  cared  only  for  quietness  and  repose.  JSot 
the  contemplative  repose  of  one  who  sought  to  reflect  with- 
out disturbance,  so  much  as  the  peaceful  isolation  that 
suited  indolence.  He  fancied  how  he  would  have  liked  to 
be  the  son  of  that  house,  and  dream  away  life  in  that  wild 
secluded  spot;  but,  after  all,  the  thought  was  like  the  epi- 
cure's notion  of  how  contented  he  could  be  with  a  meal  of 
potatoes ! 

As  the  day  broke,  he  was  roused  from  his  light  sleep  by 
the  tumult  and  noise  of  the  departing  guests.  He  arose  and 
watched  them  through  the  half-closed  jalousies.  It  was 
picturesque  enough,  in  that  crisp,  fresh,  frosty  air,  to  see 
the  groups  as  they  gathered  on  the  long  terrace  before  the 
door ;  while  equipages  the  most  varied  drew  up,  —  here  a 
family-coach  with  long-tailed  ''blacks;"  there  a  smart 
britschka,  with  spanking  grays;  a  tandem,  too,  there  was 
for  Mark's  special  handling;  and,  conspicuous  by  its  pile 
of  luggage  in  the  "well,"  stood  Gambler  Graham's  outside 
jaunting-car,  —  a  large  basket  of  vegetables  and  fruit,  and 
a  hamper  of  lobsters,  showing  how  such  guests  are  propi- 
tiated, even  in  the  hours  of  leave-taking. 

Maitland  watched  Isabella  in  all  her  little  attentive  cares 
to  Mrs.  Maxwell,  and  saw,  as  he  thought,  the  heir-expectant 
in  every  movement.  He  fancied  that  the  shawl  she  carried 
on  her  arm  was  the  old  lady's,  and  was  almost  vexed  when 
he  saw  her  wrap  it  around  her  own  shoulders.  "Well,  that 
at  least  is  sycophancy,"  muttered  he,  as  he  saw  her  clutch 
up  a  little  white  Maltese  terrier  and  kiss  it;  but,  alas  for 
his  prescience!  the  next  moment  she  had  given  the  dog  to  a 
servant  to  carry  back  into  the  house ;  and  so  it  was  her  own 
that  she  was  parting  from,  and  not  Mrs.  Maxwell's  that  she 
was  caressing ! 


108  TONY  BUTLER. 

It  is  strange  to  say  that  he  was  vexed  at  being  disap- 
pointed. She  was  very  pretty,  very  well-mannered,  and 
very  pleasing ;  but  he  longed  to  find  that  all  the  charm  and 
grace  about  her  were  conventional;  he  wished  to  believe 
that  "the  whole  thing,"  as  he  called  life,  was  a  mere  trick, 
v\^here  all  cheated  in  proportion  to  their  capacities.  Mark 
had  been  honest  enough  to  own  that  they  were  fortune-hunt- 
ing, and  Isabella  certainly  could  not  be  ignorant  of  thp 
stake  she  played  for. 

One  by  one  the  carriages  drew  up  and  moved  away,  and 
now  Gambler  Graham's  car  stood  before  the  door,  alone; 
for  the  crowd  of  footmen  who  had  thronged  to  press  their 
services  on  the  others,  gradually  melted  away,  hopeless  of 
exacting  a  blackmail  from  the  old  Commodore.  While 
Maitland  stood  watching  the  driver,  who,  in  a  composite 
sort  of  costume,  rather  more  gardener  than  coachman, 
amused  himself  flicking  with  his  whip  imaginary  flies  off 
the  old  mare's  neck  and  withers,  a  smart  tap  came  to  the 
door;  while  a  hasty  voice  called  out,  "May  I  come  in?" 

"Let  me  first  hear  who  you  are?"  said  Maitland. 

"Commodore  Graham,"  was  the  answer. 

In  a  moment  it  flashed  across  Maitland  that  the  old  sailor 
had  come  to  reveal  his  discovery  of  M'Caskey.  Just  as 
quickly  did  he  decide  that  it  was  better  to  admit  him,  and, 
if  possible,  contrive  to  make  the  story  seem  a  secret  between 
themselves. 

"Come  in,  by  all  means, —  the  very  man  I  wanted  to  see," 
said  Maitland,  as  he  opened  the  door,  and  gave  him  a 
cordial  shake-hands.  "I  was  afraid  you  were  going  with- 
out seeing  me.  Commodore;  and,  early  as  it  was,  I  got  up 
and  was  dressing  in  hope  to  catch  you." 

"That  I  call  hearty,  — downright  hearty,  — Maitland." 

Maitland  actually  started  at  this  familiar  mention  of  him 
by  one  whom  he  had  never  met  till  a  few  days  before. 

"Rather  a  rare  event  in  your  life  to  be  up  at  this  hour, 
I  '11  be  sworn,  —  except  when  3^ou  have  n't  been  to  bed,  eh?  " 
And  he  laughed  heartily  at  what  he  fancied  was  a  most 
witty  conceit.  "You  see  we  're  all  off!  We  've  had  springs 
on  our  cables  these  last  twenty-four  hours,  with  this  frolic- 
some old  woman,  who  would  insist  on  beins:  back  for  her 


EXPLANATIONS.  109 

birthday;  but  she  's  rich,  Maitland,  immensely  rich,  and  we 
all  worship  her!  " 

Maitland  gave  a  faint  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  as  though 
he  deplored  the  degeneracy,   but  could  n't  help  it. 

"Yes,  yes;  I 'm  coming,"  cried  the  Commodore,  shouting 
from  the  open  window  to  his  daughters  beneath.  "  The  girls 
are  impatient;  they  want  to  be  at  Lesliesford  when  the  others 
are  crossing.  There  's  a  fresh  on  the  river,  and  it's  better 
to  get  some  stout  fellows  to  guide  the  carriages  through  the 
water.  I  wanted  greatly  to  have  five  minutes  alone  with 
you,  — five  would  do;  half  of  it,  perhaps,  between  men  of 
the  world,  as  we  are.     You  know  about  what." 

"I  suspect  I  do,"  said  Maitland,  quietly. 

"I  saw,  too,"  resumed  Graham,  "that  you  wished  to 
have  no  talk  about  it  here,  amongst  all  these  gossiping 
people.     Was  n't  I  right  ?  " 

"Perfectly  right;  you  appreciated  me  thoroughly." 

"What  I  said  was  this,  — Maitland  knows  the  world  well. 
He  '11  wait  till  he  has  his  opportunity  of  talking  the  matter 
over  with  myself.  He  '11  say,  '  Graham  and  I  will  under- 
stand one  another  at  once.'  One  minute;  only  one," 
screamed  he  out  from  the  window.  "Couldn't  you  come 
down  and  just  say  a  word  or  two  to  them?  They  'd  like  it 
so  much." 

Maitland  muttered  something  about  his  costume. 

"Ah!  there  it  is.  You  fellows  will  never  be  seen  till  you 
are  in  full  fig.  Well,  I  must  be  off.  Now,  then,  to  finish 
what  we  've  been  saying.  You  '11  come  over  next  week  to 
Port-Graham, — that's  my  little  place,  though  there's  no 
port,  nor  anything  like  a  port,  within  ten  miles  of  it,  — and 
we  '11  arrange  everything.  If  I  'm  an  old  fellow,  Maitland, 
I  don't  forget  that  I  was  once  a  young  one,  —  mind  that, 
my  boy."  And  the  Commodore  had  to  wipe  his  eyes,  -^ith 
the  laughter  at  his  drollery.  "Yes;  here  I  am,"  cried  he, 
again;  and  then  turning  to  Maitland,  shook  his  hand  in 
both  his  own,  repeating,  "On  Wednesday,  —Wednesday  to 
dinner, — not  later  than  five,  remember,"  —  he  hastened 
down  the  stairs,  and  scrambled  up  on  the  car  beside  his 
eldest  daughter,  who  apparently  had  already  opened  a 
floodgate  of  attack  on  him  for  his  delay. 


110  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Insupportable  old  bore!"  muttered  Maitland,  as  he 
waved  bis  hand  from  the  window,  and  smiled  his  blandest 
salutations  to  the  retreating  party.  "What  a  tiresome  old 
fool  to  fancy  that  I  am  going  over  to  Graham-pond,  or 
port,  or  whatever  it  is,  to  talk  over  an  incident  that  I  desire 
to  have  forgotten!  Besides,  when  once  I  have  left  this 
neighborhood,  he  may  discuss  M'Caskey  every  day  after 
his  dinner;  he  may  write  his  life,  for  anything  I  care." 

With  this  parting  reflection  he  went  down  to  the  garden, 
strolling  listlessly  along  the  dew-spangled  alleys,  and  care- 
lessly tossing  aside  with  his  cane  the  apple-blossoms,  which 
lay  thick  as  snow-flakes  on  the  walks.  While  thus  loung- 
ing, he  came  suddenly  upon  Sir  Arthur,  as,  hoe  in  hand, 
he  imagined  himself  doing  something  useful. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  Mr.  Maitland,"  cried  he,  "Mark  has 
just  told  me  of  the  stupid  mistake  I  made.  Will  you  be 
generous  enough  to  forgive  me?" 

"It  is  from  me,  sir,  that  the  apologies  must  come,"  began 
Maitland. 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,  my  dear  Mr.  Maitland.  You  will 
overwhelm  me  with  shame  if  you  say  so.  Let  us  each  for- 
get the  incident;  and,  believe  me,  I  shall  feel  myself  your 
debtor  by  the  act  of  oblivion."  He  shook  Maitland's 
hand  warmly,  and  in  an  easier  tone  added,  "What  good 
news  I  have  heard !     Y"ou  are  not  tired  of  us,  —  not  going !  " 

"I  cannot — I  told  Mark  this  morning  —  I  don't  believe 
there  is  a  road  out  of  this." 

"Well,  wait  here  till  I  tell  you  it  is  fit  for  travelling," 
said  Sir  Arthur,  pleasantly,  and  addressed  himself  once 
more  to  his  labors  as  a  gardener. 

Meanwhile  Maitland  threw  himself  down  on  a  garden- 
bench,  and  cried  aloud,  "This  is  the  real  thing,  after  all, 
—  this  is  actual  repose.  Not  a  word  of  political  intrigue, 
no  snares,  no  tricks,  no  deceptions,  and  no  defeats;  no 
waking  to  hear  of  our  friends  arrested,  and  our  private 
letters  in  the  hands  of  a  Police  Prefect.  No  horrid  memo- 
ries of  the  night  before,  and  that  run  of  ill-luck  that  has 
left  us  almost  beggars.  I  wonder  how  long  the  charm  of 
this  tranquillity  would  endure;  or  is  it  like  all  other  ano- 


EXPLANATIONS.  Ill 

dynes,  which  lose  their  calming  power  by  habit?  I'd  cer- 
tainly like  to  try." 

"Well,  there  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't,"  said  a 
voice  from  the  back  of  the  summer-house,  which  he  knew  to 
be  Mrs.  Trafford's. 

He  jumped  up  to  overtake  her,  but  she  was  gone. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


"What  was  it  you  were  saying  about  flowers,  Jeanie?  I 
was  not  minding,"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  as  she  sat  at  her  win- 
dow watching  the  long  heaving  roll  of  the  sea,  as  it  broke 
along  the  jagged  and  rugged  shore,  her  thoughts  the  while 
far  beyond  it. 

"I  was  saying,  ma'am,  that  the  same  man  that  came  with 
the  books  t'  other  day  brought  these  roses,  and  asked  very 
kindly  how  you  were." 

"You  mean  the  same  gentleman,  lassie,  who  left  his  card 
here!  "  said  the  old  lady,  correcting  that  very  Northern  habit 
of  ignoring  all  differences  of  condition. 

"Well,  I  mind  he  was;  for  he  had  very  white  hands,  and 
a  big  bright  ring  on  one  of  his  fingers." 

"You  told  him  how  sorry  I  was  not  to  be  able  to  see 
him,  —  that  these  bad  headaches  have  left  me  unable  to 
receive  any  one?  " 

"Na;  I  didn't  say  that,"  said  she,  half  doggedly. 

*'  Well,  and  what  did  you  say  ?  " 

"I  just  said,  she  's  thinking  too  much  about  her  son,  who 
is  away  from  home,  to  find  any  pleasure  in  a  strange  face. 
He  laughed  a  little  quiet  laugh,  and  said,  '  There  is  good 
sense  in  that,  Jeanie,  and  I  '11  wait  for  a  better  moment.'  " 

"You  should  have  given  my  message  as  I  spoke  it  to 
you,"  said  the  mistress,  severely. 

"I'm  no  sae  blind  that  I  canna  see  the  differ  between  an 
aching  head  and  a  heavy  heart.  Ye  're  just  frettin',  and 
there  's  naething  else  the  matter  wi'  you.  There  he  goes 
now,  the  same  man, — the  same  gentleman,  I  mean,"  said 
she,  with  a  faint  scoff.  "He  aye  goes  back  by  the  strand, 
and  climbs  the  white  rocks  opposite  the  Skerries." 


MAITLAND'S  VISIT.  113 

"Go  and  say  that  I  '11  be  bappy  to  have  a  visit  from  him 
to-morrow,  Jeanie;  and  mind,  put  nothing  of  your  own  in 
it,  lassie,  but  give  my  words  as  I  speak  them." 

With  a  toss  of  her  head  Jeanie  left  the  room,  and  soon 
after  was  seen  skipping  lightly  from  rock  to  rock  towards 
the  beach  beneath.  To  the  old  lady's  great  surprise,  how- 
ever, Jeanie,  instead  of  limiting  herself  to  the  simple  words 
of  her  message,  appeared  to  be  talking  away  earnestly  and 
fluently  with  the  stranger;  and,  worse  than  all,  she  now 
saw  that  he  was  coming  back  with  her,  and  walking  straight 
for  the  cottage.  Mrs.  Butler  had  but  time  to  change  her 
cap  and  smooth  down  the  braids  of  her  snow-white  hair, 
when  the  key  turned  in  the  lock,  and  Jeanie  ushered  in  Mr. 
Norman  Maitland.  Nothing  could  be  more  respectful  or 
in  better  taste  than  Maitland 's  approach.  He  blended  the 
greatest  deference  with  an  evident  desire  to  make  her 
acquaintance,  and  almost  at  once  relieved  her  from  what  she 
so  much  dreaded,  —  the  first  meeting  with  a  stranger. 

"Are  you  of  the  Clairlaverock  Maitlands,  sir?"  asked 
she,  timidly. 

"Very  distantly,  I  believe,  madam.  We  all  claim  Sir 
Peter  as  the  head  of  the  family ;  but  my  own  branch  settled 
in  India  two  generations  back,  and,  I  shame  to  say,  thought 
of  everything  but  genealogy." 

"There  was  a  great  beauty,  a  Miss  Hester  jNIaitland. 
When  I  was  a  girl,  she  married  a  lord,  I  think  ? " 

"Yes,  she  married  a  Viscount  Kinross,  a  sort  of  cousin 
of  her  own;  though  I  am  little  versed  in  family  history. 
The  truth  is,  madam,  younger  sons  who  had  to  work  their 
way  in  the  world  were  more  anxious  to  bequeath  habits  of 
energy  and  activity  to  their  children  than  ideas  of  blazons 
and  quarterings." 

The  old  lady  sighed  at  this;  but  it  was  a  sigh  of  relief. 
She  had  been  dreading  not  a  little  a  meeting  with  one  of 
those  haught}'  Maitlands,  associated  in  her  childhood's  days 
with  thoughts  of  wealth  and  Dower,  and  that  dominance 
that  smacks  of,  if  it  does  not  mean,  insolence;  and  now 
she  found  one  who  was  not  ashamed  to  belong  to  a  father 
who  had  toiled  for  his  support  and  worked  hard  for  his 
livelihood.     And  yet  it  was  strange  with  what  tenacity  she 

8 


114  TONY  BUTLER. 

clung  to  a  topic  that  had  its  terrors  for  her.  She  liked  to 
talk  of  the  family,  and  high  connections,  and  great  mar- 
riages of  all  these  people  with  whose  names  she  was  familiar 
as  a  girl,  but  whom  she  had  never  known,  if  she  had  so 
much  as  seen. 

''My  poor  husband,  sir,  —  you  may  have  heard  of  him, — 
Colonel  Walter  Butler,  knew  all  these  things  by  heart.  You 
had  only  to  ask  when  did  so-and-so  die,  and  who  married 
such  a  one,  and  he  'd  tell  you  as  if  out  of  a  book." 

"  I  have  heard  of  Colonel  Butler,  madam.  His  fame  as 
a  soldier  is  widespread  in  India ;  indeed,  I  had  hoped  to 
have  made  his  son's  acquaintance  when  I  came  here;  but  I 
believe  he  is  with  his  regiment." 

"No,  sir,  he's  not  in  the  service,"  said  she,  flushing. 

''Ah!  a  civilian,  then.  Well,  madam,  the  Butlers  have 
shown  capacity  in  all  careers." 

"My  poor  boy  has  not  had  the  chance  given  him  as  yet, 
Mr.  Maitland.  We  were  too  poor  to  think  of  a  profession ; 
and  so,  waiting  and  hoping,  though  it 's  not  very  clear  for 
what,  we  let  the  time  slip  over;  and  there  he  is  a  great 
grown  man!  as  fine  a  young  fellow  as  you  ever  looked  on, 
and  as  good  as  handsome;  but  yet  he  cannot  do  one  hand's 
turn  that  would  give  him  bread ;  and  yet,  ask  your  friends 
at  the  Abbey  if  there  's  a  grace  or  gift  of  a  gentleman  he  is 
not  the  master  of." 

"I  think  I  know  how  the  Lyles  speak  of  him,  and  what 
affection  they  bear  him." 

"Many  would  condemn  me,  sir,"  cried  she,  warming  with 
the  one  theme  that  engaged  her  whole  heart,  "for  having 
thrown  my  boy  amongst  those  so  far  above  him  in  fortune, 
and  given  him  habits  and  ways  that  his  own  condition  must 
deny  him;  but  it  was  my  pride  to  see  him  in  the  station  that 
his  father  held,  and  to  know  that  he  became  it.  I  suppose 
there  are  dangers  in  it,  too,"  said  she,  rather  answering  his 
grave  look  than  anything  he  had  said.  "I  take  it,  sir, 
there  are  great  temptations,  mayhap  over-strong  tempta- 
tions, for  young  natures." 

Maitland  moved  his  head  slightly,  to  imply  that  he 
assented. 

"And  it 's  not  unlikely  the  poor  boy  felt  that  himself;  for 


'/  ^'^     OF   THE 

NIVERSITY 

CF 

MAITLAND'S  VISIT.  115 

when  he  came  home  t'  other  night  he  looked  scared  and  worn, 
and  answered  me  shortly  and  abruptly  in  a  way  he  never 
does,  and  made  me  sit  down  on  the  spot  and  write  a  letter 
for  him  to  a  great  man  who  knew  his  father,  asking  —  it  is 
hard  to  say  what  I  asked,  and  what  I  could  have  expected." 

"Colonel  Butler's  son  can  scarcely  want  friends,  madam,'* 
said  Maitland,  courteously. 

"AVhat  the  world  calls  friends  are  usually  relatives,  and 
we  have  but  one  who  could  pretend  to  any  sort  of  influence; 
and  his  treatment  of  my  poor  husband  debars  us  from  all 
knowledge  of  him.  He  was  an  only  brother,  a  certain  Sir 
Omerod  Butler.     You  may,  perhaps,  have  heard  of  him  ?  " 

"Formerly  British  Minister  at  Naples,  I  think?" 

"The  same,  sir;  a  person,  they  tell  me,  of  great  abilities, 
but  very  eccentric,  and  peculiar,  —  indeed,  so  his  letters 
bespeak  him." 

"You  have  corresponded  with  him  then,  madam?" 

"No,  sir,  never;  but  he  wrote  constantly  to  my  husband 
before  our  marriage.  They  were  at  that  time  greatly 
attached  to  each  other;  and  the  elder,  Sir  Omerod,  was 
always  planning  and  plotting  for  his  brother's  advancement. 
He  talked  of  him  as  if  he  was  his  son,  rather  than  a  younger 
brother;  in  fact,  there  were  eighteen  years  between  them. 
Our  marriage  broke  up  all  this.  The  great  man  was  shocked 
at  the  humble  connection,  and  poor  Walter  would  not  bear 
to  have  me  slightingly  spoken  of;  but  dear  me,  Mr.  Mait- 
land, how  I  am  running  on!  To  talk  of  such  things  to  you! 
I  am  really  ashamed  of  myself!  What  will  you  think 
of  me?" 

"Only  what  I  have  learned  to  think  of  you,  madam,  from 
all  your  neighbors,  — with  sentiments  of  deep  respect  and 
sincere  interest." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  say  it,  sir;  and  I  wish  Tony 
was  back  here  to  know  you  and  thank  you  for  all  your 
attention  to  his  mother." 

"You  are  expecting  him,  then?"  asked  he. 

"Well,  sir,  I  am,  and  I  am  not.  One  letter  is  full  of 
hope  and  expectancy;  by  Thursday  or  Friday  he  's  to  have 
some  tidings  about  this  or  that  place;  and  then  comes 
another,  saying  how  Sir  Harry  counsels  him  to  go  out  and 


116  TONY  BUTLER. 

make  friends  with  his  uncle.  All  mammon,  sir,  —  nothing 
but  mammon;  just  because  this  old  man  is  very  rich,  and 
never  was  married." 

"I  suspect  you  are  in  error  there,  madam.  Sir  Omerod 
was  married  at  least  twenty  years  ago,  when  I  first  heard 
of  him  at  Naples." 

She  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  and  said,  "I  have  always 
been  told  the  reverse,  sir.  I  know  what  you  allude  to,  but 
I  have  reason  to  believe  I  am  right,  and  there  is  no  Lady 
Butler." 

"It  is  curious  enough,  madam,  that  through  a  chance 
acquaintance  on  a  railroad  train,  I  learned  all  about  the 
lady  he  married.     She  was  an  Italian." 

"It's  the  same  story  I  have  heard  myself,  sir.  We  only 
differ  about  the  ending  of  it.  She  was  a  stage-player  or  a 
dancer." 

"No,  madam;  a  very  celebrated  prima  donna." 

"Ay,"  said  she,  as  though  there  was  no  discrepancy 
there.  "I  heard  how  the  old  fool  —  for  he  was  no  young 
man  then  —  got  smitten  with  her  voice  and  her  beauty,  and 
made  such  a  fuss  about  her,  taking  her  here  and  there  in  his 
state  coach,  and  giving  great  entertainments  for  her  at  the 
Embassy,  where  the  arms  of  England  were  over  the  door; 
and  I  have  been  told  that  the  king  heard  of  it,  and  wrote 
to  Sir  Omerod  a  fearful  letter,  asking  how  he  dared  so  to 
degrade  the  escutcheon  of  the  great  nation  he  represented. 
Ah,  you  may  smile,  sir."  Maitland  had,  indeed,  smiled 
alike  at  her  tale,  and  the  energy  with  which  she  told  it. 
"You  may  smile,  sir;  but  it  was  no  matter  for  laughter,  I 
promise  you.  His  Majesty  called  on  him  to  resign,  and 
the  great  Sir  Omerod,  who  would  n't  know  his  own  brother, 
because  he  married  a  minister's  daughter,  fell  from  his 
high  station  for  the  sake  of  —  I  will  not  say  any  hard  words; 
but  she  was  not  certainly  superior  in  station  to  myself,  and 
I  will  make  no  other  comparison  between  us." 

"I  suspect  you  have  been  greatly  misled  about  all  this, 
madam,"  said  Maitland,  with  a  quiet,  grave  manner.  "Sir 
Omerod  —  I  heard  it  from  my  travelling  companion  —  took 
his  retiring  pension  and  quitted  diplomacy  the  very  day  he 
was  entitled  to  it.     So  far  from  desiring  him  to  leave,  it  is 


MAITLAND'S  VISIT.  117 

said  that  the  Minister  of  the  day  pressed  him  to  remain 
at  his  post.  He  has  the  reputation  of  possessing  no  mean 
abilities,  and  certainly  enjoyed  the  confidence  of  the  Court 
to  which  he  was  accredited." 

"I  never  heard  so  much  good  of  him  before;  and  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  Mr.  Maitland,  if  you  had  warned  me  that 
you  were  his  friend,  I  'd  scarcely  have  been  so  eager  to 
make  your  acquaintance." 

''Remember,  my  dear  madam,  all  I  have  been  telling  3'ou 
reached  myself  as  hearsay." 

'•  \Yell,  well,"  said  she,  sighing.  "He's  not  over-likely 
to  trouble  his  head  about  me,  and  I  don't  see  why  I  am 
to  fash  myself  for  him.  Are  you  minded  to  stay  much 
longer  in  this  neighborhood,  Mr.  Maitland?"  said  she,  to 
change  the  topic. 

"I  fear  not,  madam.  I  have  overstayed  everything  here 
but  the  kindness  of  my  hosts.  I  have  affairs  which  call  me 
abroad,  and  some  two  or  three  engagements  that  I  have  run 
to  the  very  last  hour.  Indeed,  I  will  confess  to  you,  I 
delayed  here  to  meet  your  son." 

''To  meet  Tony,  sir?" 

"Yes,  madam.  In  my  intercourse  with  the  Lyles  I  have 
learned  to  know  a  great  deal  about  him ;  to  hear  traits  of  his 
fine  generous  nature,  his  manly  frankness,  and  his  courage. 
These  were  the  testimonies  of  witnesses  who  differed  widely 
from  each  other  in  age  and  temperament;  and  yet  they  all 
concurred  in  saying  he  was  a  noble-hearted  young  fellow, 
who  richly  deserved  all  the  fortune  that  could  befall  him." 

"Oh  dear,  sir,  these  are  sweet  words  to  his  poor  mother's 
ears.  He  is  all  that  I  have  left  me;  and  you  cannot  know 
how  he  makes  up  to  me  for  want  of  station  and  means,  and 
the  fifty  other  things  that  people  who  are  well-off  look  for. 
I  do  hope  he  '11  come  back  before  you  leave  this.  I  'd  like 
to  let  you  see  I  'm  not  over-boastful  about  him." 

"I  have  had  a  project  in  my  head  for  some  days  back. 
Indeed,  it  was  in  pursuance  of  it  I  have  been  so  persevering 
in  my  attempts  to  see  you,  madam.  It  occurred  to  me, 
from  what  Sir  Arthur  Lyle  said  of  your  son,  that  he  was 
just  the  person  I  have  long  been  looking  out  for,  —  a  man 
of  good  name  and  good  blood,  fresh  to  the  world,  neither 


118  TONY  BUTLER. 

hackneyed,  on  the  one  hand,  nor  awkwardly  ignorant,  on 
the  other;  well  brought  up  and  high-principled,  — a  gentle- 
man, in  fact.  It  has  long  been  a  plan  of  mine  to  find  one 
such  as  this,  who,  calling  himself  my  secretary,  would  be  in 
reality  my  companion  and  my  friend;  who  would  be  content 
to  share  the  fortunes  of  a  somewhat  wayward  fellow  for  a 
year  or  two,  till,  using  what  little  influence  I  possess,  I 
could  find  means  of  effectually  establishing  him  in  life. 
Now,  madam,  I  am  very  diffident  about  making  such  a  pro- 
posal to  one  in  every  respect  my  equal,  and,  I  have  no 
doubt,  more  than  my  equal  in  some  things ;  but  if  he  were 
not  my  equal,  there  would  be  an  end  to  what  I  desire  in  the 
project.  In  fact,  to  make  the  mere  difference  of  age  the 
question  of  superiority  between  us,  is  my  plan.  We  should 
live  together  precisely  on  the  terms  of  equality.  In  return 
for  that  knowledge  of  life  I  could  impart  to  him,  —  what  I 
know  of  the  world,  not  acquired  altogether  without  some 
sharp  experience,  —  he  would  repay  me  by  that  hearty  and 
genial  freshness  which  is  the  wealth  of  the  young.  Now, 
madam,  I  will  not  tire  you  with  any  more  of  my  specula- 
tions, purely  selfish  as  they  are;  but  will  at  once  say,  if, 
when  your  son  and  I  meet,  this  notion  of  mine  is  to  his 
taste,  all  the  minor  details  of  it  shall  not  deter  him.  I 
know  I  am  not  offering  a  career,  but  it  is  yet  the  first  step 
that  will  fit  him  for  one.  A  young  fellow,  gifted  as  he  is, 
will  needs  become,  in  a  couple  of  years'  intercourse  with 
what  is  pre-eminently  society,  a  man  of  consummate  tact 
and  ability.  All  that  I  know  of  life  convinces  me  that  the 
successful  men  are  the  ready-witted  men.  Of  course  I  intend 
to  satisfy  you  with  respect  to  myself.  You  have  a  right  to 
know  the  stability  of  the  bank  to  whom  you  are  intrusting 
your  deposit.  At  all  events,  think  over  my  plan,  and  if 
nothing  has  already  fallen  to  your  son's  hands  in  London, 
ask  him  to  come  back  here  and  talk  it  over  with  me.  I  can 
remain  here  for  a  week,  that  is,  if  I  can  hope  to  meet  him." 
The  old  lady  listened  with  all  attention  and  patience  to  this 
speech.  She  was  pleased  by  the  flattery  of  it.  It  was  flat- 
tery, indeed,  to  hear  that  consummately  fine  gentleman 
declare  that  he  was  ready  to  accept  Tony  as  his  equal  in  all 
things,  and  it  was  more  than  flattery  to  fancy  her  dear  boy 


MAITLANb'S  VISIT.  119 

mingling  in  the  pleasures  and  fascinations  of  the  great  world, 
courted  and  admired,  as  she  could  imagine  he  would  be  ;  but 
there  were  still  drawbacks  to  all  these.  The  position  was 
that  of  a  dependant ;  and  how  would  Tony  figure  in  such  a 
post?  He  was  the  finest-tempered,  most  generous  creature 
in  the  world,  where  no  attempt  to  overbear  interfered ;  but 
any  show  of  offensive  superiority  would  make  a  tiger  of  him. 

"  Well,  well,"  thought  she,  ''  it 's  not  to  be  rejected  all  at 
once,  and  I  '11  just  talk  it  over  with  the  minister."  "  May  I 
consult  an  old  friend  and  neighbor  of  mine,  sir,  before  I 
speak  to  Tony  himself?"  said  she,  timidly. 

''By  all  means,  madam;  or,  if  you  like  it  better,  let  me 
call  on  him,  and  enter  more  fully  into  my  plan  than  I  have 
ventured  to  do  with  you." 

''  No,  thank  you,  sir.  I  '11  just  talk  the  matter  over  with 
the  doctor,  and  I  '11  see  what  he  says  to  it  all.  This  seems  a 
very  ungracious  way  to  meet  your  great  kindness,  sir ;  but  I 
was  thinking  of  what  awhile  ago  you  called  my  deposit,  and 
so  it  is,  —  it 's  all  the  wealth  I  possess,  —  and  even  the 
thought  of  resigning  it  is  more  than  I  can  bear." 

"I  hope  to  convince  you  one  of  these  days,  madam,  that 
you  have  not  invested  unprofitably ;  "  and  with  many  cour- 
teous assurances  that,  decide  how  she  might,  his  desire  to 
serve  her  should  remain,  he  took  his  leave,  bequeathing,  as 
he  passed  out,  a  glow  of  hope  to  the  poor  widow's  heart,  not 
the  less  cheering  that  she  could  not  freely  justify  nor  even 
define  it. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

TONY    IN    TOWN. 

Day  followed  day,  and  Tony  Butler  heard  nothing  from  the 
Minister.  He  went  down  each  morning  to  Downing  Street, 
and  interrogated  the  austere  doorkeeper,  till  at  length  there 
grew  up  between  that  grim  official  and  himself  a  state  of 
feeling  little  short  of  hatred. 

"  No  letter?  "  would  say  Tony. 

"  Look  in  the  rack,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Is  this  sort  of  thing  usual?  " 

'^  What  sort  of  thing?" 

' '  The  getting  no  reply  for  a  week  or  eight  days  ?  " 

''  I  should  say  it  is  very  usual  with  certain  people." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  certain  people?  " 

"  Well,  the  people  that  don't  have  answers  to  the  letters, 
nor  ain't  likely  to  have  them." 

"  Might  I  ask  you  another  question?  "  said  Tony,  lower- 
ing his  voice,  and  fixing  a  very  quiet  but  steady  look  on  the 
other. 

*'  Yes,  if  it 's  a  short  one." 

"  It 's  a  very  short  one.  Has  no  one  ever  kicked  j^ou  for 
j^our  impertinence?" 

"Kicked  mr,  —  kicked  me,  sir!"  cried  the  other,  while 
hid  face  became  purple  with  passion. 

"  Yes,"  resumed  Tony,  mildly ;  "for  let  me  mention  it  to 
you  in  confidence,  it 's  the  last  thing  I  mean  to  do  before  I 
leave  London." 

"  We  '11  see  about  this,  sir,  at  once,"  cried  the  porter,  who 
rushed  through  the  inner  door,  and  tore  upstairs  like  a  mad- 
man. Tony  meanwhile  brushed  some  dust  off  his  coat  with 
a  stray  clothes-brush  near,  and  was  turning  to  leave  the  spot, 


TONY  IX  TOWN.  121 

when  SkeJBngton  came  hurriedly  towards  him,  trying  to 
smother  a  fit  of  laughter  that  would  not  be  repressed. 

**  What 's  all  this,  Butler?  "  said  he.  "  Here  's  the  whole 
office  in  commotion.  Willis  is  up  with  the  chief  clerk  and 
old  Brand  telling  them  that  you  drew  a  revolver  and 
threatened  his  life,  and  swore  if  you  had  n't  an  answer  by  to- 
morrow at  twelve,  you  'd  blow  Sir  Harry's  brains  out." 

"It's  somewhat  exaggerated.  I  had  no  revolver,  and 
never  had  one.  I  don't  intend  any  violence  beyond  kicking 
that  fellow,  and  I  '11  not  do  even  that  if  he  can  manage  to  be 
commonly  civil." 

"The  Chief  wishes  to  see  this  gentleman  upstairs  for  a 
moment,"  said  a  pale,  sickly  youth  to  Skefflngton. 

"  Don't  get  flurried.  Be  cool,  Butler,  and  say  nothing 
that  can  irritate,  —  mind  that,"  whispered  Skeffingtou,  and 
stole  away. 

Butler  was  introduced  into  a  spacious  room,  partly  office, 
partly  library,  at  the  fireplace  of  which  stood  two  men,  a 
short  and  a  shorter.  They  were  wonderfully  alike  in 
externals,  being  each  heavy-looking  white-complexioned 
serious  men,  with  a  sort  of  dreary  severity  of  aspect,  as  if 
the  spirit  of  domination  had  already  begun  to  weigh  down 
even  themselves. 

"  We  have  been  informed,"  began  the  shorter  of  the  two, 
in  a  slow,  deliberate  voice,  "  that  you  have  grossly  outraged 
one  of  the  inferior  officers  of  this  department ;  and  although 
the  case  is  one  which  demands,  and  shall  have,  the  attention 
of  the  police  authorities,  we  have  sent  for  you  —  Mr.  Brand 
and  I  —  to  express  our  indignation,  —  eh.  Brand?"  added 
he,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Certainly,  our  indignation,"  chimed  in  the  other. 

"And  aware,  as  we  are,"  resumed  the  Chief,  "  that  you 
are  an  applicant  for  employment  under  this  department,  to 
convey  to  you  the  assurance  that  such  conduct  as  you  have 
been  guilty  of  totally  debars  you  —  excludes  you  —  " 

"Yes,  excludes  you,"  chimed  in  Brand. 

*'From  the  most  remote  prospect  of  an  appointment!" 
said  the  first,  taking  up  a  book,  and  throwing  it  down  with  a 
slap  on  the  table,  as  though  the  more  emphatically  to  confirm 
his  words. 


122  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Who  are  you,  may  I  ask,  who  pronounce  so  finally  on 
my  prospects?"  cried  Tony. 

"^Who  are  we,  —  who  are  we?  "  said  the  Chief,  in  a  horror 
at  the  query.     "  Will  you  tell  him,  Mr.  Brand?  " 

The  other  was,  however,  ringing  violently  at  the  bell,  and 
did  not  hear  the  question. 

"Have  you  sent  to  Scotland  Yard?"  asked  he  of  the 
servant  who  came  to  his  summons.  "  Tell  Willis  to  be 
ready  to  accompany  the  officer,  and  make  his  charge." 

"  The  gentleman  asks  who  we  are !  "  said  Baynes,  with  a 
feeble  laugh. 

"  I  ask  in  no  sort  of  disrespect  to  you,"  said  Butler,  "  but 
simply  to  learn  in  what  capacity  I  am  to  regard  you.  Are 
you  magistrates?     Is  this  a  court?  " 

"No,  sir,  we  are  not  magistrates,"  said  Brand;  "  we  are 
heads  of  departments, — departments  which  we  shall  take 
care  do  not  include  within  their  limits  persons  of  your  habits 
and  pursuits." 

"  You  can  know  very  little  about  my  habits  or  pursuits. 
I  promised  your  hall-porter  I'd  kick  him,  and  I  don't  suspect 
that  either  you  or  your  little  friend  there  would  risk  any 
interference  to  protect  him." 

"  My  Lord !  "  said  a  messenger,  in  a  voice  of  almost 
tremulous  terror,  while  he  flung  open  both  inner  and  outer 
door  for  the  great  man's  approach.  The  person  who  entered 
with  a  quick,  active  step  was  an  elderly  man,  white-whiskered 
and  white-haired,  but  his  figure  well  set  up,  and  his  hat 
rakishly  placed  a  very  little  on  one  side ;  his  features  were 
acute,  and  betokened  promptitude  and  decision,  blended 
with  a  sort  of  jocular  humor  about  the  mouth,  as  though 
even  State  affairs  did  not  entirely  indispose  a  man  to  a 
jest. 

"Don't  send  that  bag  off  to-night,  Baynes,  till  I  come 
down,"  said  he,  hurriedly;  "and  if  any  telegrams  arrive, 
send  them  over  to  the  house.  What 's  this  policeman  doing 
at  the  door?  —  who  is  refractory?" 

"  This  —  young  man  "  —  he  paused,  for  he  had  almost  said 
""  gentleman  " — "  has  just  threatened  an  old  and  respectable 
servant  of  the  office  with  a  personal  chastisement,  my 
Lord." 


TONY  IN  TOWN.  123 

"  Declared  he  'd  break  every  bone  in  his  body,"  chimed  in 
Brand. 

**  Whose  body?  "  asked  his  Lordship. 

*'  Willis's,  my  Lord,  —  the  hall-porter,  —  a  man,  if  I  mis- 
take not,  appointed  by  your  Lordship." 

''  I  said  I'd  kick  him,"  said  Tony,  calmly. 

''Kick  Willis?"  said  my  Lord,  with  a  forced  gravity, 
which  coald  not,  however,  suppress  a  laughing  twinkle  of  his 
keen  gray  eyes,  —  "  kick  Willis?  " 

''  Yes,  my  Lord  ;  he  does  not  attempt  to  deny  it." 

''  What's  your  name,  sir,"  asked  my  Lord. 

"  Butler,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

''  The  son  of  —  no,  not  son  —  but  relative  of  Sir  Omerod's?  " 
asked  his  Lordship  again. 

"  His  nephew." 

"  Why,  Sir  Harry  Elphinstone  has  asked  me  for  something 
for  you.  I  don't  see  what  I  can  do  for  you.  It  would  be  an 
admirable  thing  to  have  some  one  to  kick  the  porters ;  but 
we  have  n't  thought  of  such  an  appointment,  —  eh,  Baynes  ? 
Willis,  the  very  first ;  most  impudent  dog !  We  want  a 
messenger  for  Bucharest,  Brand,  don't  we?" 

' '  No,  my  Lord ;  you  filled  it  this  morning,  —  gave  it  to 
Mr.  Beed." 

"  Cancel  Beed,  then,  and  appoint  Butler." 

"  Mr.  Beed  has  gone,  my  Lord,  —  started  with  the  Vienna 
bag." 

"  Make  Butler  supernumerary." 

"  There  are  four  already,  my  Lord." 

*'I  don't  care  if  there  were  forty,  Mr.  Brand!  Go  and 
pass  your  examination,  young  gentleman,  and  thank  Sir 
Harry  Elphinstone,  for  this  nomination  is  at  his  request. 
I  am  only  sorry  you  didn't  kick  Willis."  And  with  this 
parting  speech  he  turned  away,  and  hopped  downstairs  to 
his  brougham,  with  the  light  step  and  jaunty  air  of  a  man  of 
thirty. 

Scarcely  was  the  door  closed,  when  Baynes  and  Brand 
retired  into  a  window  recess,  conversing  in  lowest  whispers 
and  with  much  head-shaking.  To  what  a  frightful  condi- 
tion the  country  must  come  —  any  country  must  come  — 
when   administered   by   men   of   such   levity,   who  make  a 


124  TONY  BUTLER. 

sport  of  its  interests,  and  a  practical  joke  of  its  patronage 
—  was  the  theme  over  which  they  now  mourned  in  common. 

"Are  you  going  to  make  a  minute  of  this  appointment, 
Brand?  "  asked  Baynes.     '*  I  declare  I'd  not  do  it." 

The  other  pursed  up  his  lips  and  leaned  his  head  to  one 
side,  as  though  to  imply  that  such  a  course  would  be  a  bold 
one. 

"  Will  you  put  his  name  on  your  list?  " 

''  I  don't  know,"  muttered  the  other.  "  I  suspect  we  can 
do  it  better.     Where  have  you  been  educated,  Mr.  Butler?" 

"At  home,  principally." 

"  Never  at  any  public  school?  " 

"  Never,  except  you  call  a  village  school  a  public  one." 

Brand's  eyes  glistened,  and  Baynes's  returned  the  sparkle. 

"  Are  you  a  proficient  in  French?  " 

"  Far  from  it.  I  could  spell  out  a  fable,  or  a  page  of 
'•  Telemachus,'  and  even  that  would  push  me  hard." 

"  Do  you  write  a  good  hand?  " 

"It  is  legible,  but  it's  no  beauty." 

"  And  3^our  arithmetic?" 

"Pretty  much  like  my  French, — the  less  said  about  it 
the  better." 

"  I  think  that  will  do,  Brand,"  whispered  Baynes. 

The  other  nodded,  and  muttered,  "  Of  course;  and  it  is 
the  best  way  to  do  it." 

"These  are  the  points,  Mr.  Butler,"  he  continued,  giving 
him  a  printed  paper,  "  on  which  you  will  have  to  satisfy  the 
Civil  Service  Commissioners ;  they  are,  as  you  see,  not  very 
numerous  nor  very  difficult.  A  certificate  as  to  general  con- 
duct and  character  —  British  subject-^  some  knowledge  of 
foreign  languages  —  the  first  four  rules  of  arithmetic  —  and 
that  you  are  able  to  ride  —  " 

"  Thank  Heaven,  there  is  one  thing  I  can  do  ;  and  if  you 
ask  the  Commissioners  to  take  a  cast  'cross  country,  I  '11 
promise  them  a  breather." 

Tony  never  noticed  —  nor,  had  he  noticed,  had  he  cai-ed 
for  —  the  grave  austerity  of  the  heads  of  departments  at 
this  outburst  of  enthusiasm.  He  was  too  full  of  his  own 
happiness,  and  too  eager  to  share  it  with  his  mother. 

As  he  gained  the  street,  Skeffington  passed  bis  arm  through 


TONY  IN  TOWN.  125 

his,  and  walked  along  with  him,  offering  him  his  cordial 
gratulatious,  and  giving  him  many  wise  and  prudent  counsels, 
though  unfortunately,  from  the  state  of  ignorance  of  Tony's 
mind,  these  latter  were  lamentably  unprofitable.  It  was  of 
"the  Oiiice "  that  he  warned  him, — of  its  tempers,  its 
caprices,  its  rancors,  and  its  jealousies,  till,  lost  in  the 
maze  of  his  confusion,  poor  Tony  began  to  regard  it  as  a 
beast  of  ill-omened  and  savage  passions,  —  a  great  monster, 
in  fact,  who  lived  on  the  bones  and  flesh  of  ardent  and 
high-hearted  youths,  drying  up  the  springs  of  their  existence, 
and  exhausting  their  brains  out  of  mere  malevolence.  Out 
of  all  the  farrago  that  he  listened  to,  all  that  he  could  col- 
lect was,  "  that  he  was  one  of  those  fellows  that  the  chiefs 
always  hated  and  invariably  crushed."  AVhy  destiny  should 
have  marked  him  out  for  such  odium  —  why  he  was  born  to 
be  strangled  by  red  tape,  Tony  could  not  guess,  nor,  to  say 
truth,  did  he  trouble  himself  to  inquire ;  but,  resisting  a 
pressing  invitation  to  dine  with  Skettington  at  his  club,  he 
hastened  to  his  room  to  write  his  good  news  to  his  mother. 

"  Think  of  my  good  fortune,  dearest  little  mother,"  he  wrote. 
"  I  have  got  a  place,  and  such  a  place !  You  'd  fancy  it  was  made 
for  me,  for  I  have  neither  to  talk  nor  to  think  nor  to  read  nor  to 
write,  —  all  my  requirements  are  joints  that  will  bear  bumping,  and  a 
head  that  will  stand  the  racket  of  railroad  and  steamboat  without 
any  sense  of  confusion,  beyond  what  nature  implanted  there.  Was 
he  not  a  wise  Minister  who  named  me  to  a  post  whore  bones  are 
better  than  brains,  and  a  good  dicrestion  su|)erior  to  intellect?  I  am 
to  be  a  messenger,  —  a  Foreifrn  Service  ^Messenger  is  the  grand  title, 

—  a  creature  to  go  over  the  whole  globe  with  a  white  leather  basj  or 
two,  full  of  mischief  or  gossip,  as  it  may  be.  and  whose  whole  care  is 
to  consist  in  keeping;  his  time,  and  beinfr  never  out  of  health. 

*'  They  say  in  America  the  bears  were  made  for  Colonel  Crocket's 
doer,  and  T  'm  sure  these  places  were  made  for  fellows  of  my  stamp, 

—  fellows  to  carry  a  message,  and  yet  not  intrusted  with  the  telling 
it 

"  The  pay  is  capital,  the  position  good,  —  that  is,  three  fourths  of 
the  men  are  as  good  or  better  than  myself;  and  the  life,  all  tell  me, 
is  rare  fun,  —  you  go  everywhere,  see  everythin<i,  and  think  of  noth- 
in^i.  In  all  your  dreams  for  me,  you  never  fancied  the  like  of  this. 
They  talk  of  places  for  all  sorts  of  capacities,  but  imacfine  a  berth 
for  one  of  no  capacity  at  all !  And  yet,  mother  dear,  they  have 
made  a  blunder,  —  and  a  very  absurd  blunder  too,  and  no  small  one  I 


126  TONY  BUTLER. 

they  have  instituted  a  test  —  a  sort  of  examination — for  a  career 
that  ought  to  be  tested  by  a  round  with  the  boxing-gloves,  or  a  sharp 
canter  over  a  course  with  some  four-feet  hurdles  ! 

"  I  am  to  be  examined,  in  about  six  weeks  from  this,  in  some 
foreign  tongues,  multiplication,  and  the  state  of  my  muscles.  1  am 
to  show  proof  that  1  was  born  of  white  parents,  and  am  not  too 
young  or  too  old  to  go  alone  of  a  message.  There  's  the  whole  of  it. 
It  ain't  much,  but  it  is  quite  enough  to  frighten  one,  and  I  go  about 
with  the  verb  avoir  in  my  head,  and  the  tirst  four  rules  of  arithmetic 
dance  round  me  like  so  many  furies.  What  a  month  of  work  and 
drudgery  there  is  before  you^  little  woman  !  You  '11  have  to  coach  me 
through  my  declensions  and  subtractions.  If  you  don't  fag,  you  'II 
be  plucked,  for,  as  for  me,  I'll  only  be  your  representative  whenever 
I  go  in.  Look  up  your  grammar,  then,  and  your  history  too,  for  they 
plucked  a  man  the  other  day  that  said  Piccolomini  was  not  a  general, 
but  a  little  girl  that  sang  in  the  '  Traviata ' !  I  'd  start  by  the  mail 
this  evening,  but  that  I  have  to  go  up  to  the  Office  —  no  end  of  a 
chilling  place  —  for  my  examination  papers,  and  to  be  tested  by  the 
doctor  that  I  am  all  right,  thews  and  sinews;  but  I'll  get  away  by 
the  afternoon,  right  glad  to  leave  all  this  turmoil  and  confusion,  the 
very  noise  of  which  makes  me  quarrelsome  and  ill-tempered. 

"  There  is  such  a  good  fellow  here,  Skeffington,  —  the  Honorable 
Skeffington  Damer,  to  speak  of  him  more  formally,  —  who  has  been 
most  kind  to  me.  He  is  private  secretary  to  Sir  Harry,  and 
told  me  all  manner  of  things  about  the  Government  offices,  and  the 
Dons  that  rule  them.  If  I  was  a  clever  or  a  sharp  fellow,  1  suppose 
this  would  have  done  me  infinite  service  ;  but,  as  old  Dr.  Kinward 
says,  it  was  only  '  putting  the  wine  in  a  cracked  bottle ;  '  and  all  I 
can  remember  is  the  kindness  that  dictated  the  attention. 

"  Skeff  is  some  relation  —  I  forget  what  —  to  old  Mrs.  Maxwell 
of  Tilney,  and,  like  all  the  world,  expects  to  be  her  heir.  He  talks 
of  coming  over  to  see  her  when  he  gets  his  leave,  and  said  —  God 
forgive  him  for  it  —  that  he  'd  run  down  and  pass  a  day  with  us.  I 
could  n't  say  '  Don't,'  and  I  had  not  heart  to  say  '  Do !  '  I  had  not 
the  courage  to  tell  him  frankly  that  we  lived  in  a  cabin  with  four 
rooms  and  a  kitchen,  and  that  butler,  cook,  footman,  and  housemaid 
were  all  represented  by  a  barefooted  lassie,  who  was  far  more  at 
home  drawing  a  fishing-net  than  in  cooking  its  contents.  I  was  just 
snob  enough  to  say,  '  Tell  us  when  we  may  look  out  for  you ;  '  and 
without  manliness  to  add,  'And  I'll  run  away  when  I  hear  it.'  But 
he  's  a  rare  good  fellow,  and  teases  me  every  day  to  dine  with  him  at 
the  Arthur,  —  a  club  where  all  the  young  swells  of  the  Government 
offices  assemble  to  talk  of  themselves,  and  sneer  at  their  official 
superiors. 

"  I  '11  go  out,  if  I  can,  and  see  Dolly  before  I  leave,  though  she 


TONY  IN  TOWN.  127 

told  me  that  the  family  did  n't  like  her  having  friends,  —  the  flunkeys 
called  them  followers,  —  and  of  course  I  ought  not  to  do  what  would 
make  her  uncomfortable  ;  still,  one  minute  or  two  would  suffice  to 
get  me  some  message  to  bring  the  doctor,  who  '11  naturally  expect  it. 
I'd  like,  besides,  to  tell  Dolly  of  my  good  fortune,  —  though  it  is, 
perhaps,  not  a  very  graceful  thing  to  be  full  of  one's  own  success  to 
another,  whose  position  is  so  painful  as  hers,  poor  girl.  If  you  saw 
how  pale  she  has  grown,  and  how  thin ;  even  her  voice  has  lost  that 
jolly  ring  it  had,  and  is  now  weak  and  poor.  She  seems  so  much 
afraid  —  of  what  or  whom  1  can't  make  out  —  but  all  about  her  be- 
speaks terror.  You  say  very  little  of  the  Abbey,  and  I  am  always 
thinking  of  it.  The  great  big  world,  and  this  great  big  city  that  is  its 
capital,  are  very  small  things  to  me,  compared  to  that  little  circle  that 
could  be  swept  by  a  compass,  with  a  centre  at  the  Burnside,  and  a 
leg  of  ten  miles  long,  that  would  take  in  the  Abbey  and  the  salmon- 
weir,  the  rabbit-warren  and  the  boat-jetty  !  If  I  was  very  rich,  I  'd 
just  add  three  rooms  to  our  cottage,  and  put  up  one  for  myself,  with 
my  own  traps  ;  and  another  for  you,  with  all  the  books  that  ever  were 
written  ;  and  another  for  Skeff,  or  any  other  good  fellow  we  'd  like 
to  have  with  us.  Would  n't  that  be  jolly,  little  mother  ?  I  won't 
deny  I  've  seen  what  would  be  called  prettier  places  here,  —  the  Thames 
above  and  below  Richmond,  for  instance.  Lawns  smooth  as  velvet, 
great  trees  of  centuries'  growth,  and  fine  houses  of  rich  people, 
are  on  every  side.  But  I  like  our  own  wild  crags  and  breezy  hill- 
sides better  ;  I  like  the  great  green  sea,  rolling  smoothly  on,  and 
smashing  over  our  rugged  rocks,  better  than  all  those  smooth  eddied 
currents,  with  their  smart  racing-boats  skimming  about.  If  I  could 
only  catch  these  fellows  outside  the  Skerries  some  day,  with  a  wind 
from  the  northwest :  would  n't  I  spoil  the  colors  of  their  gay 
jackets? 

"Here's  Skeff  come  again.  He  says  he  is  going  to  dine  with 
some  very  pleasant  fellows  at  the  Star  and  Garter,  and  that  I  must 
positively  come.  He  won't  be  denied,  and  I  am  in  such  rare  spirits 
about  my  appointment  that  I  feel  as  if  I  should  be  a  churl  to  mvself 
to  refuse,  though  I  have  my  sore  misgiving  about  accepting  what  I 
well  know  I  never  can  make  any  return  for.  How  I  'd  like  one 
word  from  you  to  decide  for  me ! 

"  I  must  shut  up.  I  'm  off  to  Richmond,  and  they  are  all  making 
such  a  row  and  hurrying  me  so,  that  my  head  is  turning.  One  has  to 
hold  the  candle,  and  another  stands  ready  with  the  sealing-wax,  by 
way  of  expediting  me.  Good-bye,  dearest  mother  —  I  start  to-mor- 
row for  home.  —  Your  affectionate  son, 

"  ToxY  Butler." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A    DINNER    AT    RICHMOND. 

With  the  company  that  composed  the  dinner-party  we  have 
only  a  very  passing  concern.  They  were  —  including  Skef- 
fington  and  Tony  —  eight  in  all.  Three  were  young  offi- 
cials from  Downing  Street ;  two  were  guardsmen  ;  and  one 
an  inferior  member  of  the  royal  household,  —  a  certain  Mr. 
Arthur  Mayfair,  a  young  fellow  much  about  town,  and 
known  by  every  one. 

The  dinner  was  ostensibly  to  celebrate  the  promotion  of 
one  of  the  guardsmen,  — Mr.  Lyner ;  in  reality,  it  was  one 
of  those  small  orgies  of  eating  and  drinking  which  our 
modern  civilization  has  imported  from  Paris. 

A  well-spread  and  even  splendid  table  was  no  novelty 
to  Tony ;  but  such  extravagance  and  luxury  as  this  he  had 
never  witnessed  before ;  it  was,  in  fact,  a  banquet  in  which 
all  that  was  rarest  and  most  costly  figured,  and  it  actually 
seemed  as  if  every  land  of  Europe  had  contributed  some 
delicacy  or  other  to  represent  its  claims  to  epicurism,  at 
this  congress.  There  were  caviare  from  Russia,  and  oysters 
from  Ostend,  and  red  trout  from  the  Highlands,  and  plover- 
eggs  and  pheasants  from  Bohemia,  and  partridges  from 
Alsace,  and  scores  of  other  delicacies,  each  attended  by  its 
appropriate  wine ;  to  discuss  which,  with  all  the  high  con- 
noissfeurship  of  the  table,  furnished  the  whole  conversation. 
Politics  and  literature  apart,  no  subject  could  have  been 
more  removed  from  all  Tony's  experiences.  He  had  never 
read  Brillat-Savarin,  nor  so  much  as  heard  of  M.  Ude,  — 
of  the  great  controversy  between  the  merits  of  white  and 
brown  truffles,  he  knew  positively  nothing;  and  he  had 
actually  eaten  terrapin,  and  believed  it  to  be  very  exqui- 
site veal! 


A  DINNER  AT  RICHMOND.  129 

He  listened,  and  listened  very  attentively.  If  it  might 
have  seemed  to  him  that  the  company  devoted  a  most 
extravagant  portion  of  the  time  to  the  discussion,  there 
was  such  a  realism  in  the  presence  of  the  good  things  them- 
selves, that  the  conversation  never  descended  to  frivolity ; 
while  there  was  an  earnestness  in  the  talkers  that  rejected 
such  an  imputation. 

To  hear  them,  one  would  have  thought  —  at  least,  Tony 
thought  —  that  all  their  lives  had  been  passed  in  dining, 
Could  any  memory  retain  the  mass  of  small  minute  circum- 
stances that  they  recorded,  or  did  they  keep  prandial  records 
as  others  keep  game-books?  Not  one  of  them  ever  for- 
got where  and  when  and  how  he  had  ever  eaten  anything 
remarkable  for  its  excellence ;  and  there  was  an  elevation 
of  language,  an  ecstasy  imported  into  the  reminiscences, 
that  only  ceased  to  be  ludicrous  when  he  grew  used  to  it. 
Perhaps,  as  a  mere  listener,  he  partook  more  freely  than 
he  otherwise  might  of  the  good  things  before  him.  In 
the  excellence  and  endless  variety  of  the  wines,  there  was, 
besides,  temptation  for  cooler  heads  than  his ;  not  to  add 
that  on  one  or  two  occasions  he  found  himself  in  a  jury 
empanelled  to  pronounce  upon  some  nice  question  of  flavor, 
—  points  upon  which,  as  the  evening  wore  on,  he  entered 
with  a  far  greater  reliance  on  his  judgment  than  he  would 
have  felt  half  an  hour  before  dinner. 

He  had  not  what  is  called,  in  the  language  of  the  table, 
a  "  made  head,"  —  that  is  to  say,  at  Lyle  Abbey,  his  bottle 
of  Sneyd's  Claret  after  dinner  was  more  than  he  liked  well 
to  drink ;  but  now,  when  Sauterne  succeeded  Sherry,  and 
Marcobrunner  came  after  Champagne,  and  in  succession  fol- 
lowed Bordeaux,  and  Burgundy,  and  Madeira,  and  then 
Bordeaux  again  of  a  rarer  and  choicer  vintage,  Tony's  head 
grew  addled  and  confused.  Though  he  spoke  very  little, 
there  passed  through  his  mind  all  the  varied  changes  that 
his  nature  was  susceptible  of.  He  was  gay  and  depressed, 
daring  and  cautious,  quarrelsome  and  forgiving,  stern  and 
affectionate,  by  turns.  There  were  moments  when  he  would 
have  laid  down  his  life  for  the  company,  and  fleeting  in- 
stants when  his  eye  glanced  around  to  see  upon  whom  he 
could  fix  a  deadly  quarrel ;   now  he  felt  rather  vainglorious 

9 


130  TONY  BUTLER. 

at  being  one  of  such  a  distinguished  company,  and  now 
a  sharp  distrust  shot  through  him  that  he  was  there  to  be 
the  butt  of  these  town- bred  wits,  whose  merriment  was 
nothing  but  a  covert  impertinence. 

All  these  changeful  moods  only  served  to  make  him 
drink  more  deeply.  He  filled  bumpers  and  drank  them 
daringly.  Skettington  told  the  story  of  the  threat  to  kick 
Willis, — not  much  in  itself,  but  fall  of  interest  to  the 
young  officials  who  knew  Willis  as  an  institution,  and  could 
no  more  have  imagined  his  personal  chastisement  than  an 
insult  to  the  royal  arms.  When  Skeff,  however,  finished  by 
saying  that  the  Secretary  of  State  himself  rather  approved 
of  the  measure,  they  began  to  feel  that  Tony  Butler  was 
that  greatest  of  all  created  things,  "a  rising  man."  For 
as  the  power  of  the  unknown  number  is  incommensurable, 
so  the  height  to  which  a  man's  success  may  carry  him  can 
never  be  estimated. 

"It's  deuced  hard  to  get  one  of  these  messenger-ships,'* 
said  one  of  the  guardsmen;  "they  say  it's  far  easier  to 
be  named  Secretary  of  Legation." 

' '  Of  course  it  is.  Fifty  fellows  are  able  to  ride  in  a 
coach  for  one  that  can  read  and  write,"  said  May  fair. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  cried  Tony,  his  eyes 
flashing  fire. 

"Just  what  I  said,"  replied  the  other,  mildly,  —  "that 
as  there  is  no  born  mammal  so  helpless  as  a  real  gentle- 
man, it's  the  rarest  thing  to  find  an  empty  shell  to  suit 
him." 

"And  they're  well  paid,  too,"  broke  in  the  soldier. 
"Why,  there's  no  fellow  so  well  off.  They  have  five 
pounds  a  day." 

"  Xo,  they  have  not." 

"They  have." 

"  They  have  not." 

"On  duty  —  when  they're  on  duty." 

"No,  nor  off  duty." 

"  Harris  told  me." 

"  Harris  is  a  fool." 

"He's  my  cousin,"  said  a  sickly  young  fellow,  who 
looked  deadly  pale,  "and  I'll  not  hear  him  called  a  liar." 


A  DINNER   AT  RICHMOND.  181 

"  Nobody  said  liar.     I  said  he  was  a  fool." 

**  And  so  he  is,"  broke  in  Mayfair,  "  for  he  went  and 
got  married  the  other  day  to  a  girl  without  sixpence." 

"Beaumont's  daughter?" 

*' P^xactly.  The  '  Lively  Kitty,'  as  we  used  to  call  her; 
a  name  she'll  scarce  go  by  in  a  year  or  two." 

"I  don't  think,"  said  Tony,  with  a  slow,  deliberate  utter- 
ance,—  "I  don't  think  that  he  has  made  me  a  suit — 
suit — suitable  apology  for  what  he  said,  —  eh,  Skeff?" 

"Be  quiet,  will  you?"    muttered  the  other. 

"Kitty  had  ten  thousand  pounds  of  her  own." 

"  Not  sixpence." 

"  I  tell  you  she  had." 

"Grant  it.  What  is  ten  thousand  pounds?"  lisped  out 
a  little  pink-cheeked  fellow,  who  had  a  hundred  and  eighty 
per  annum  at  the  Board  of  Trade.  "  If  you  are  econom- 
ical, you  may  get  two  years  out  of  it." 

"  If  I  thought,"  growled  out  Tony  into  Skeff's  ear,  "that 
he  meant  it  for  insolence,  I'd  punch  his  head,  curls  and 
all." 

"  Will  you  just  be  quiet?"  said  Skeff,  again. 

"I  'd  have  married  Kitty  myself,"  said  pink  cheeks,  "if  I 
thought  she  had  ten  thousand." 

"And  I  'd  have  gone  on  a  visit  to  you,"  said  Mayfair, 
"  and  we  'd  have  played  billiards,  the  French  game,  every 
evening." 

"I  never  thought  Harris  was  so  weak  as  to  go  and 
marry,"  said  the  youngest  of  the  party,  not  fully  one-and- 
twenty. 

"Every  one  hasn't  your  experience,  Upton,"  said  May- 
fair. 

"Why  do  the  fellows  bear  all  this?"  whispered  Tony, 
again. 

"I  say,  be  quiet,  —  do  be  quiet,"  mumbled  Skeff. 

"Who  was  it  used  to  call  Kitty  Beaumont  the  Lass  of 
Richmond  Hill?"  said  Mayfair;  and  now  another  uproar 
ensued  as  to  the  authority  in  question,  in  which  many  con- 
tradictions were  exchanged,  and  some  wagers  booked. 

"Sing  us  that  song  Bailey  made  on  her,  — '  Fair  Lady  on 
the  River's  Bank; '  you  can  sing  it,  Clinton?  " 


132  TOXY  BUTLER. 

"Yes,  let  us  have  the  song."  cried  several  together. 

*'I  '11  wager  five  pounds  I  '11  name  a  prettier  girl  on  the 
same  spot,"  said  Tony  to  Skefif. 

"Butler  challenges  the  field,"  cried  Skeff.  "He  knows, 
and  will  name,  the  prettiest  girl  in  Richmond." 

"I  take  him.     What 's  the  figure?  "  said  Mayfair. 

"  And  I  —  and  I !  "  shouted  three  or  four  in  a  breath.  ' 

"1  think  he  offered  a  pony,"  lisped  out  the  youngest. 

"I  said,  I  'd  bet  five  pounds,"  said  Tony,  fiercely;  "don't 
misrepresent  me^  sir." 

"I  '11  take  your  money,  then,"  cried  Mayfair. 

"No,  no;  1  was  first:  I  said  '  done  '  before  you,"  inter- 
posed a  guardsman. 

"But  how  can  it  be  decided?  We  can't  summon  the  rival 
beauties  to  our  presence,  and  perform  Paris  and  the  apple," 
said  Skeff. 

"Come  along  with  me  and  you  shall  see  her,"  broke  in 
Tony;  "she  lives  within  less  than  five  minutes'  walk  of 
where  we  are.  I  am  satisfied  that  the  matter  should  be  left 
to  your  decision,  Skeffingtou." 

"No,  no,"  cried  several,  together;  "take  Mayfair  with 
you.  He  is  the  fittest  man  amongst  us  for  such  a  criticism ; 
he  has  studied  these  matters  profoundly." 

"Here  's  a  health  to  all  good  lasses!  "  cried  out  another; 
and  goblets  were  filled  with  champagne,  and  drained  in  a 
moment,  while  some  attempted  the  song;  and  others,  imagin- 
ing that  they  had  caught  the  air,  started  off  with  "Here's 
to  the  Maiden  of  Blooming  Fifteen,"  making  up  an  amount 
of  confusion  that  was  perfectl}-  deafening,  in  which  the 
waiter  entered  to  observe,  in  a  very  meek  tone,  that  the 
Archdeacon  of  Halford  was  entertaining  a  select  party  in 
the  next  room,  and  entreated  that  they  might  be  permitted 
to  hear  each  other  occasionally. 

Such  a  burst  of  horror  and  indignation  as  followed  this 
request !  Some  were  for  an  armed  intervention  at  once ;  some 
for  a  general  smash  of  all  things  practicable;  and  two  or 
three,  haughtier  in  their  drunkenness,  declared  that  the  Star 
and  Garter  should  have  no  more  of  their  patronage,  and 
proudly  ordered  the  waiter  to  fetch  the  bill. 

"Thirty-seven  —  nine  —  six."  said   Mayfair,  as   he  held 


A  DINNER  AT  RICHMOND.  133 

the  document  near  a  candle;  "make  it  an  even  forty  for  the 
waiters,  and  it  leaves  five  pounds  a  head,  eh?  —  not  too 
much,  after  all." 

"Well,  I  don't  know;  the  asparagus  was  miserably 
small." 

"And  I  got  no  strawberries." 

"I  have  my  doubts  about  that  Moselle." 

"It  ain't  dear;  at  least,  it's  not  dearer  than  anywhere 
else." 

While  these  criticisms  were  going  forward,  Tony  per- 
ceived that  each  one  in  turn  was  throwing  down  his  sover- 
eigns on  the  table,  as  his  contribution  to  the  fund ;  and  he 
approached  Skeffington,  to  whisper  that  he  had  forgotten  his 
purse,  —  his  sole  excuse  to  explain,  what  he  would  n't  con- 
fess, that  he  believed  he  was  an  invited  guest.  Skeff  was, 
however,  by  this  time  so  completely  overcome  by  the  last 
toast  that  he* sat  staring  fatuously  before  him,  and  could 
only  mutter,  in  a  melancholy  strain,  "To  be,  or  not  to  be; 
that's  a  question." 

"Can  you  lend  me  some  money?  "  whispered  Tony.  "I 
tvant  your  purse." 

"He  —  takes  my  purse  —  trash  —  trash  —  "  mumbled  out 
the  other. 

"I  '11  book  up  for  Skeff y,"  said  one  of  the  guardsmen; 
'and  now  it 's  all  right." 

"No,"  said  Tony,  aloud;  "I  have  n*t  paid.  I  left  my 
purse  behind,  and  I  can't  make  Skeffington  understand 
that  I  want  a  loan  from  him;  "  and  he  stooped  down  again 
and  whispered  in  his  ear. 

While  a  buzz  of  voices  assured  Tony  that  "it  didn't 
matter;  all  had  money,  any  one  could  pay,"  and  so  on, 
Skeffington  gravely  handed  out  his  cigar-case,  and  said, 
"Take  as  much  as  you  like,  old  fellow;  it  was  quarter-day 
last  week." 

In  a  wild,  uproarious  burst  of  laughter  they  now  broke 
up;  some  helping  Skeffington  along,  some  performing  mock- 
ballet  steps,  and  two  or  three  attempting  to  walk  with  an 
air  of  rigid  propriety,  which  occasionally  diverged  into 
strange  tangents. 

Tony  was    completely    bewildered.       Never  was    a  poor 


134  TONY  BUTLER. 

brain  more  addled  than  his.  At  one  moment  he  thought 
them  all  the  best  fellows  in  the  world;  he  'd  have  risked  his 
neck  for  any  of  them ;  and  at  the  next  he  regarded  them  as 
a  set  of  insolent  snobs,  daring  to  show  off  airs  of  superiority 
to  a  stranger,  because  he  was  not  one  of  them ;  and  so  he 
oscillated  between  the  desire  to  show  his  affection  for  them,, 
or  have  a  quarrel  with  any  of  them. 

Meanwhile  Mayfair,  with  a  reasonable  good  voice  and 
some  taste,  broke  out  into  a  wild  sort  of  air,  whose  measure 
changed  at  every  moment.     One  verse  ran  thus :  — 

*'  By  the  light  of  the  moou,  by  the  light  of  the  moon. 
We  all  went  home  by  the  light  of  the  moon. 

With  a  ringing  song 

We  trampled  along, 
Recalling  what  we  '11  forget  so  soon, 

How  the  wine  was  good, 

And  the  talk  was  free,  * 

And  pleasant  and  gay  the  company. 

"  For  the  wine  supplied 
What  our  wits  denied. 
And  we  pledge  the  girls  whose  eyes  we  knew,  whose  eyes  we  knew. 
You  ask  her  name,  but  what 's  that  to  you,  what 's  that  to  you  ?  " 

*'Well,  there's  where  she  lives,  anyhow,"  muttered  Tony, 
as  he  came  to  a  dead  stop  on  the  road,  and  stared  full  at  a 
small  two-storeyed  house  in  front  of  him. 

"Ah,  that's  where  she  lives!"  repeated  Mayfair,  as  he 
drew  his  arm  within  Tony's,  and  talked  in  a  low  and  confi- 
dential tone.  "And  a  sweet,  pretty  cottage  it  is.  What  a 
romantic  little  spot!     What  if  we  were  to  serenade  her! " 

Tony  gave  no  reply.  He  stood  looking  up  at  the  closed 
shutters  of  the  quiet  house,  which,  to  his  eyes,  represented 
a  sort  of  penitentiary  for  that  poor  imprisoned  hard- 
working girl.  His  head  was  not  very  clear,  but  he  had 
just  sense  enough  to  remember  the  respect  he  owed  her  con- 
dition, and  how  jealously  he  should  guard  her  from  the 
interference  of  others.  Meanwhile  Mayfair  had  leaped  over 
the  low  paling  of  the  little  front  garden,  and  stood  now  close 
to  the  house.  With  an  admirable  imitation  of  the  prelude 
of  a  guitar,  he  began  to  sing,  — 


A  DINNER  AT  RICHMOND.  135 

"  Come  dearest  Lilla, 
Thy  auxious  lover 
Counts,  counts  the  weary  moments  over  —  " 

As  he  reached  thus  far,  a  shutter  gently  opened,  and  in  the 
strong  glare  of  the  moonlight  some  trace  of  a  head  could 
be  detected  behind  the  curtain.  Encouraged  by  this,  the 
singer  went  on  in  a  rich  and  flowery  voice,  — 

"  Anxious  he  waits, 
Thy  voice  to  hear 
Break,  break  on  his  enraptured  ear." 

At  this  moment  the  window  was  thrown  open,  and  a 
female  voice,  in  an  accent  strongly  Scotch,  called  out, 
*' Awa  wi'  ye,  — pack  o'  ne'er-do-weels  as  ye  are,  —  awa  wi' 
ye  a' !     I  '11  call  the  police."     But  Mayfair  went  on,  — 

"The  night  invites  to  love, 
So  tarry  not  above, 
But  Lilla  —  Lilla  —  Lilla,  come  down  to  me  !  '* 

*'I  '11  come  down  to  you,  and  right  soon,"  shouted  a 
hoarse  masculine  voice.  Two  or  three  who  had  clambered 
over  the  paling  beside  Mayfair  now  scampered  off;  and 
Mayfair  himself,  making  a  spring,  cleared  the  fence,  and 
ran  down  the  road  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  followed  by  all 
but  Tony,  who,  half  in  indignation  at  their  ignominious 
flight,  and  half  with  some  vague  purpose  of  apology,  stood 
his  ground  before  the  gate. 

The  next  moment  the  hall  door  opened,  and  a  short  thick- 
set man,  armed  with  a  powerful  bludgeon,  rushed  out  and 
made  straight  towards  him.  Seeing,  however,  that  Tony 
stood  firm,  neither  offering  resistance  nor  attempting 
escape,  he  stopped  short,  and  cried  out,  "What  for  drunken 
blackguards  are  ye,  that  canna  go  home  without  disturbing 
a  quiet  neighborhood?  " 

''If  you  can  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head,"  said  Tony, 
"I  '11  ask  your  pardon  for  this  disturbance." 

"What 's  your  apology  to  me,  you  young  scamp!  "  cried 
the  other,  wrenching  open  the  gate  and  passing  out  into  the 
road.     "I'd  rather  give  you  a  lesson  than  listen  to  your 


136  TONY  BUTLER. 

excuses."  He  lifted  his  stick  as  he  spoke;  but  Tony  sprang 
upon  him  with  the  speed  of  a  tiger,  and,  wrenching  the 
heavy  bludgeon  out  of  his  hand,  flung  it  far  into  a  neigh- 
boring field,  and  then,  grasping  him  by  the  collar  with  both 
hands,  he  gave  him  such  a  shake  as  very  soon  convinced 
his  antagonist  how  unequal  the  struggle  would  be  between 
them.  "By  Heaven!  "  muttered  Tony,  ''if  you  so  much  as 
lay  a  hand  on  me,  I  '11  send  you  after  your  stick.  Can't 
you  see  that  this  was  only  a  drunken  frolic,  that  these  young 
fellows  did  not  want  to  insult  you,  and  if  1  stayed  here 
behind  them,  it  was  to  appease,  not  to  offend  you  ? " 

"Dinna  speak  to  me,  sir.  Let  me  go,  — let  go  my  coat. 
I'm  not  to  be  handled  in  this  manner,"  cried  the  other,  in 
passion. 

"Go  back  to  your  bed,  then!"  said  Tony,  pushing  him 
from  him.  "It's  clear  enough  j^ou  have  no  gentleman's 
blood  in  your  body,  or  you  'd  accept  an  amends  or  resent 
an  affront." 

Stung  by  this  retort,  the  other  turned  and  aimed  a  blow 
at  Butler's  face;  but  he  stopped  it  cleverly,  and  then,  seiz- 
ing him  by  the  shoulder,  he  swung  him  violently  round,  and 
threw  him  within  the  gate  of  the  garden. 

"You  are  more  angered  than  hurt,"  muttered  Tony,  as  he 
looked  at  him  for  an  instant. 

"Oh,  Tony,  that  this  could  be  you!"  cried  a  faint  voice 
from  a  little  window  of  an  attic,  and  a  violent  sob  closed 
the  words. 

Tony  turned  and  went  his  way  towards  London,  those 
a(kients  ringing  in  his  ears,  and  at  every  step  he  went 
repeating,  "That  this  could  be  you!" 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A    STRANGE    MEETING    AND    PARTING. 

What  a  dreary  waking  was  that  of  Tony's  on  the  morning 
after  the  orgies!  Not  a  whit  the  less  overwhelming  from 
the  great  difficulty  he  had  in  recalling  the  events,  and  inves- 
tigating his  own  share  in  them.  There  was  nothing  that  he 
could  look  back  upon  with  pleasure.  Of  the  dinner  and  the 
guests,  all  that  he  could  remember  was  the  costliness  and 
the  tumult;  and  of  the  scene  at  Mrs.  M'Gruder's,  his  im- 
pression was  of  insults  given  and  received,  a  violent  alter- 
cation, in  which  his  own  share  could  not  be  defended. 

How  different  had  been  his  waking  thoughts,  had  he  gone 
as  he  proposed,  to  bid  Dora  a  good-bye,  and  tell  her  of  his 
great  good  fortune!  How  full  would  his  memory  now  have 
been  of  her  kind  words  and  wishes;  how  much  would  he 
have  to  recall  of  her  sisterly  affection,  for  they  had  been 
like  brother  and  sister  from  their  childhood !  It  was  to  Dora 
that  Tony  confided  all  his  boyhood's  sorrows,  and  to  the 
same  ear  he  had  told  his  first  tale  of  love,  when  the  beautiful 
Alice  Lyle  had  sent  through  his  heart  those  emotions 
which,  whether  of  ecstasy  or  torture,  make  a  new  existence 
and  a  new  being  to  him  who  feels  them  for  the  first  time. 
He  had  loved  Alice  as  a  girl,  and  was  all  but  heart-broken 
when  she  married.  His  sorrows  —  and  were  they  not  sor- 
roMS ?  —  had  all  been  intrusted  to  Dora ;  and  from  her  he 
had  heard  such  wise  and  kind  counsels,  such  encouraging 
and  hopeful  words;  and  when  the  beautiful  Alice  came 
back,  within  a  year,  a  widow,  far  more  lovely  than  ever,  he 
remembered  how  all  his  love  was  rekindled.  Nor  was  it 
the  less  entrancing  that  it  was  mingled  with  a  degree  of 
deference  for  her  station,  and  an  amount  of  distance  which 
her  new  position  exacted. 


138  TONY  BUTLER. 

He  had  intended  to  have  passed  his  last  evening  with 
Dora  in  talking  over  these  things;  and  how  had  he  spent  it? 
In  a  wild  and  disgraceful  debauch,  and  in  a  company  of 
which  he  felt  himself  well  ashamed. 

It  was,  however,  no  part  of  Tony's  nature  to  spend  time 
in  vain  regrets ;  he  lived  ever  more  in  the  present  than  the 
past.  There  were  a  number  of  things  to  be  done,  and  done 
at  once.  The  first  was  to  acquit  his  debt  for  that  unlucky 
dinner;  and,  in  a  tremor  of  doubt,  he  opened  his  little  store 
to  see  what  remained  to  him.  Of  the  eleven  pounds  ten 
shillings  his  mother  gave  him  he  had  spent  less  than  two 
pounds;  he  had  travelled  third-class  to  London,  and  while 
in  town  denied  himself  every  extravagance.  He  rang  for 
his  hotel  bill,  and  was  shocked  to  see  that  it  came  to  three 
pounds  seveu-and-sixpence.  He  fancied  he  had  half- 
starved  himself,  and  he  saw  a  catalogue  of  steaks  and  lunch- 
eons to  his  share  that  smacked  of  very  gluttony.  He  paid 
it  without  a  word,  gave  an  apology  to  the  waiter  that  he 
had  run  himself  short  of  money,  and  could  only  offer  him  a 
crown.  The  dignified  official  accepted  the  excuse  and  the 
coin  with  a  smile  of  bland  sorrow.  It  was  a  pity  that  cut 
both  ways,  —  for  himself  and  for  Tony  too. 

There  now  remained  but  a  few  shillings  above  five  pounds, 
and  he  sat  down  and  wrote  this  note :  — 

"  IMy  r>EAR  Skeffington,  —  Some  one  of  your  friends,  last  night, 
was  kind  enough  to  pay  my  share  of  the  reckoning  for  me.  Will 
you  do  me  the  favor  to  thank  and  repay  him  ?  I  am  off  to  Ireland 
hui-riedly,  or  I  'd  call  and  see  you.  1  have  not  even  time  to  wait  for 
those  examination  papers,  which  were  to  be  delivered  to  me  either 
to-day  or  to-morrow.  Would  you  send  them  by  post,  addressed  '  T. 
Butler,  Burnside,  Coleraine '?  i\Iy  head  is  not  very  clear  to-day, 
but  it  should  be  more  stupid  if  I  could  forget  all  your  kindness  since 
we  met. 

"Believe  me,  very  sincerely,  &c., 

"  Tony  Butler." 

The  next  was  to  his  mother :  — 

"Dearest  IMother,  —  Don't  expect  me  on  Saturday;  it  may 
be  two  or  three  days  later  ere  I  reach  home.     I  am  all  right,  in  rare 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  AND  PARTING.      139 

health  and  capital  spirits,  and  never  in  my  life  felt  more  completely 
your  own 

"  Tony  Butler." 

One  more  note  remained,  but  it  was  not  easy  to  write  it, 
nor  even  to  deeidfe  whether  to  address  it  to  Dora  or  to  Mr. 
M'Gruder.  At  length  he  decided  for  the  latter,  and  wrote 
thus : — 

"  Sir,  —  I  beg  to  offer  you  the  very  humblest  apology  for  the 
disturbance  created  last  night  before  your  house.  We  had  all  drunk 
too  much  wine,  lost  our  heads,  and  forgotten  good  manners.  If  I 
had  been  in  a  fitting  condition  to  express  myself  properly,  I'd  have 
made  my  excuses  on  the  spot.  As  it  is,  I  make  the  first  use  of  my 
recovered  brains  to  tell  you  how  heartily  ashamed  I  am  of  my  con- 
duct, and  how  desirous  I  feel  to  know  that  you  will  cherish  no  un- 
generous feelings  towards  your  faithful  servant, 

"  T.  Butler." 

"  I  hope  he  '11  think  it  all  right.  I  hope  this  will  satisfy 
him.  I  trust  it  is  not  too  humble,  though  I  mean  to  be 
humble.  If  he's  a  gentleman,  he'll  think  no  more  of  it; 
but  he  may  not  be  a  gentleman,  and  will  probably  fancy 
that,  because  I  stoop,  he  ought  to  kick  me.  That  would  be 
a  mistake;  and  perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  add,  by  way 
of  P.S.,  '  If  the  above  is  not  fully  satisfactory,  and  that  you 
prefer  another  issue  to  this  affair,  my  address  is  T.  Butler, 
Burnside,  Coleraine,  Ireland.' 

''Perhaps  that  would  spoil  it  all,"  thought  Tony.  "I 
want  him  to  forgive  an  offence;  and  it 's  not  the  best  way 
to  that  end  to  say,  '  If  you  like  fighting  better,  don't  balk 
your  fancy.'  No,  no;  I'll  send  it  in  its  first  shape.  I 
don't  feel  very  comfortable  on  my  knees,  it  is  true,  but  it  is 
all  my  own  fault  if  I  am  there. 

"And  now  to  reach  home  again.  I  wish  I  knew  how  that 
was  to  be  done!  Seven  or  eight  shillings  are  not  a  very 
big  sum,  but  I  'd  set  off  with  them  on  foot  if  there  was  no 
sea  to  be  traversed."  To  these  thoughts  there  was  no  relief 
by  the  possession  of  any  article  of  value  that  he  could  sell 
or  pledge.  He  had  neither  watch  nor  ring,  nor  any  of  those 
fanciful  trinkets  which  modern  fashion  affects. 

He  knew  not  one  person  from  whom  he  could  ask  the  loan 


140  TONY  BUTLER. 

of  a  few  pounds ;  nor,  worse  again,  could  he  be  certain  of 
being  able  to  repay  them  within  a  reasonable  time.  To 
approach  Skeffington  on  such  a  theme  was  impossible;  any- 
thing rather  than  this.  If  he  were  once  at  Liverpool,  there 
were  sure  to  be  many  captains  of  Northern  steamers  that 
would  know^  him,  and  give  him  a  passage  home.  But  how 
to  get  to  Liverpool  ?  The  cheapest  railroad  fare  was  above 
a  pound.  If  he  must  needs  walk,  it  would  take  him  a  week; 
and  he  could  not  afford  himself  more  than  one  meal  a  day, 
taking  his  chance  to  sleep  under  a  corn-stack  or  a  hedgerow. 
Very  dear,  indeed,  was  the  price  that  grand  banquet  cost 
him,  and  yet  not  deaier  than  half  the  extravagances  men 
are  daily  and  hourly  committing ;  the  only  difference  being 
that  the  debt  is  not  usually  exacted  so  promptly.  He  wrote 
his  name  on  a  card,  and  gave  it  to  the  waiter,  saying, 
"When  I  send  to  you  under  this  name,  you  will  give  my 
portmanteau  to  the  bearer  of  the  message,  for  I  shall  prob- 
ably not  come  back,  —  at  least,  for  some  time." 

The  waiter  was  struck  by  the  words,  but  more  still  by 
the  dejected  look  of  one  whom,  but  twenty-four  hours  back, 
he  had  been  praising  for  his  frank  and  gay  bearing. 

"  Nothing  wrong,  I  hope,  sir  ? "  asked  the  man,  respect- 
fully. 

*'Not  a  great  deal,"  said  Tony,  with  a  faint  smile. 

''I  was  afraid,  sir,  from  seeing  you  look  pale  this  morn- 
ing, I  fancied,  indeed,  that  there  was  something  amiss.  I 
hope  you  're  not  displeased  at  the  liberty  1  took,  sir?" 

"Not  a  bit;  indeed,  I  feel  grateful  to  you  for  noticing 
that  I  was  not  in  good  spirits.     I  have  so  ver}'  few  friends 
in  this  big  city  of  yours,  your  sympathy  was  pleasant  to  , 
me.     Will  you  remember  what  I  said  about  my  luggage?" 

"Of  course,  sir,  I  '11  attend  to  it;  and  if  not  called  for 
within  a  reasonable  time,  is  there  any  address  you  'd  like 
me  to  send  it  to  ?  " 

Tony  stared  at  the  man,  who  seemed  to  flinch  under  the 
gaze;  and  it  shot  like  a  bolt  through  his  mind,  "He  thinks 
I  have  some  gloomy  purpose  in  my  head."  "I  believe  I 
apprehend  you,"  said  he,  laying  his  hand  on  the  man's 
shoulder;  "but  you  are  all  wrong.  There  is  nothing  more 
serious  the  matter  with  me  than  to  have  run  myself  out  of 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  AXD  PARTING.  141 

money,  and  I  cannot  conveniently  wait  here  till  I  write  and 
get  an  answer  from  home;  there  's  the  whole  of  it." 

"Oh,  sir,  if  you'll  not  be  offended  at  a  humble  man  like 
me,  —  if  you  'd  forgive  the  liberty  1  take,  and  let  me  as  far 
as  a  ten-pound  note ; "  he  stammered,  and  reddened,  and 
seemed  positively  wretched  in  his  attempt  to  explain  himself 
without  any  breach  of  propriety.  Nor  was  Tony,  indeed, 
less  moved  as  he  said,  — 

"I  thank  you  heartily;  you  have  given  me  something  to 
remember  of  this  place  with  gratitude  so  long  as  I  live. 
But  1  am  not  so  hard  pressed  as  you  suspect.  Jt  is  a  merely 
momentary  inconvenience,  and  a  few  days  will  set  it  all 
right.     Good-bye;  I  hope  we'll  meet  again." 

And  he  shook  the  man's  hand  cordially  in  his  own  strong 
fingers,  and  passed  out  with  a  full  heart  and  a  very  choking 
throat. 

When  he  turned  into  the  street,  he  walked  along  without 
choosing  his  way.  His  mind  was  too  much  occupied  to  let 
him  notice  either  the  way  or  the  passers-by ;  and  he  saun- 
tered along,  now  musing  over  his  own  lot,  now  falling  back 
upon  that  trustful  heart  of  the  poor  waiter,  whose  position 
could  scarcely  have  inspired  such  confidence. 

"I  am  certain  that  what  are  called  moralists  are  unfaii 
censors  of  their  fellow-men.  I  '11  be  sworn  there  is  more  of 
kindness  and  generosity  and  honest  truth  in  the  world  thar 
there  is  of  knavery  and  falsehood;  but  as  we  have  no 
rewards  for  the  one,  and  keep  up  jails  and  hulks  for  the 
other,  we  have  nothing  to  guide  our  memories.  That 's 
the  whole  of  it;  all  the  statistics  are  on  one  side." 

While  he  was  thus  ruminating,  he  had  wandered  along, 
and  was  already  deep  in  the  very  heart  of  the  City.  Nor 
did  the  noise,  the  bustle,  the  overwhelming  tide  of  humanity 
arouse  him,  as  it  swept  along  in  its  ceaseless  flow.  So 
intently  was  his  mind  turned  inward,  that  he  narrowly 
escaped  being  run  over  by  an  omnibus,  the  pole  of  which 
struck  him,  and  under  whose  wheels  he  had  unquestionably 
fallen,  if  it  were  not  that  a  strong  hand  grasped  him  by  the 
shoulder,  and  swung  him  powerfully  back  upon  the  flag- 
way. 

"Is  it  blind  you  are,  that  you  didn't  hear  the  'bus?" 


142  TOXY  BUTLEK. 

cried  a  somewhat  gruff  voice,  with  an  accent  that  told  of 
a  laud  he  liked  well ;  and  Tony  turned  and  saw  a  stout, 
strongly  built  young  fellow,  dressed  in  a  sort  of  bluish 
frieze,  and  with  a  bundle  on  a  stick  over  his  shoulder.  He 
was  good-looking,  but  of  a  more  serious  cast  of  features 
than  is  common  with  the  lower-class  Irish. 

"I  see,"  said  Tony,  "that  I  owe  this  good  turn  to  a 
countryman.      You're  from  Ireland?" 

"Indeed,  and  I  am,  your  honor,  and  no  lie  in  it,"  said  he, 
reddening,  as  if  —  alt!  .ough  there  was  nothing  to  be  ashamed 
of  by  the  avowal  —  popular  prejudice  lay  rather  in  the  other 
direction. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  was  thinking  of,"  said  Tony,  again; 
and  even  yet  his  head  had  not  regained  its  proper  calm.  "I 
forgot  all  about  where  I  was,  and  never  heard  the  horses  till 
they  were  on  me." 

"'Tis  what  I  remarked,  sir,"  said  the  other,  as  with  his 
sleeve  he  brushed  the  dirt  off  Tony's  coat.  ''I  saw  you  was 
like  one  in  a  dhream." 

"I  wish  I  had  anything  worth  offering  you,"  said  Tony, 
reddening,  while  he  placed  the  last  few  shillings  he  had  in 
the  other's  palm. 

''What's  this  for?"  said  the  man,  half  angrily;  "sure 
you  don't  think  it 's  for  money  I  did  it;  "  and  he  pushed  the 
coin  back  almost  rudely  from  him. 

While  Tony  assuaged,  as  well  as  he  might,  the  anger  of 
his  wounded  pride,  they  walked  on  together  for  some  time, 
till  at  last  the  other  said,  "I'll  have  to  hurry  away  now, 
your  honor;  I  'm  to  be  at  Blackwall,  to  catch  the  packet  for 
Derry,  by  twelve  o'clock." 

"What  packet  do  you  speak  of?  " 

"The  '  Fo3"le,'  sir.  She's  to  sail  this  evening,  and  I 
have  my  passage  paid  for  me,  and  I  mustn't  lose  it." 

"If  I  had  my  luggage,  I  'd  go  in  her  too.  I  want  to 
cross  over  to  Ireland." 

"And  where  is  it,  sir,  — the  luggage,  I  mean?" 

"Oh,  it 's  only  a  portmanteau,  and  it 's  at  the  Tavistock 
Hotel,  Covent  Garden." 

"If  your  honor  wouldn't  mind  taking  charge  of  this," 
said  he,  pointing  to  his  bundle,  "I'd  be  off  in  a  jiffy,  and 


A  STRANGE   MEETING  AND  PARTING.  148 

get  the  trunk,  and  be  back  by  the  time  you  reached  the 
steamer. " 

"Would  you  really  do  me  this  service?  Well,  here  's  my 
card ;  when  you  show  this  to  the  waiter,  he  '11  hand  you  the 
portmanteau;  and  there  is  nothing  to  pay." 

"All  right,  sir;  the  '  Foyle,'  a  big  paddle-steamer,  —  you  '11 
know  her  red  chimney  the  moment  you  see  it ;  "  and  without 
another  word  he  gave  Tony  his  bundle  and  hurried  away. 

"Is  not  this  trustfulness?"  thought  Tony,  as  he  walked 
onward;  "I  suppose  this  little  bundle  contains  all  this  poor 
fellow's  worldly  store,  and  he  commits  it  to  a  stranger 
without  one  moment  of  doubt  or  hesitation."  It  was  for  the 
second  time  on  that  same  morning  that  his  heart  was  touched 
by  a  trait  of  kindness ;  and  he  began  to  feel  that  if  such 
proofs  of  brotherhood  were  rife  in  the  world,  narrow  fortune 
was  not  half  so  bad  a  thing  as  he  had  ever  believed  it. 

It  was  a  long  walk  he  had  before  him,  and  not  much  time 
to  do  it  in,  so  that  he  was  obliged  to  step  briskly  out.  As 
for  the  bundle,  it  is  but  fair  to  own  that  at  first  he  carried 
it  with  a  certain  shame  and  awkwardness,  affecting  in 
various  ways  to  assure  the  passers-by  that  such  an  occupa- 
tion was  new  to  him;  but  as  time  wore  on,  and  he  saw, 
as  he  did  see,  that  very  few  noticed  him,  and  none  troubled 
themselves  as  to  what  was  the  nature  of  his  burden,  he  grew 
more  indifferent,  well  consoled  by  thinking  that  nothing  was 
more  unlikely  than  that  he  should  be  met  by  any  one  he 
knew. 

When  he  got  down  to  the  river-side,  boats  were  leaving  in 
every  direction,  and  one  for  the  "Foyle,"  with  two  passen- 
gers, offered  itself  at  the  moment.  He  jumped  in,  and  soon 
found  himself  aboard  a  large  mercantile  boat,  her  deck 
covered  with  fragments  of  machinery  and  metal  for  some 
new  factory  in  Belfast.  "Where's  the  captain?"  asked 
Tony  of  a  gruff-looking  man  in  a  tweed  coat  and  a  wide- 
awake. 

"I'm  the  captain;  and  what  then?"  said  the  other. 

In  a  few  words  Tony  explained  that  he  had  found  himself 
short  of  cash,  and  not  wishing  to  be  detained  till  he  could 
write  and  have  an  answer  from  home,  he  begged  he  might 
have  a  deck  passage.     "If  it  should  cost  more  than  I  have 


144  TONY  BUTLER. 

money  for,  I  will  leave  my  trunk  with  your  steward  till  I 
remit  my  debt." 

''Get  those  boats  aboard;  clear  away  that  hawser  there; 
look  out,  or  you'll  foul  that  collier,"  cried  the  skipper,  his 
deep  voice  ringing  above  the  din  and  crash  of  the  escaping 
steam,  but  never  so  much  as  noticing  one  word  of  Tony's 
speech. 

Too  proud  to  repeat  his  address,  and  yet  doubting  how  it 
had  been  taken,  he  stood,  occasionally  buffeted  about  by 
the  sailors  as  they  hurried  hither  and  thither;  and  now, 
amidst  the  din,  a  great  bell  rang  out;  and  while  it  clattered 
away,  some  scrambled  up  the  side  of  the  ship,  and  others 
clambered  down,  while  with  shouts  and  oaths  and  impreca- 
tions on  every  side,  the  great  mass  swung  round,  and  two 
slow  revolutions  of  her  paddles  showed  she  was  ready  to 
start.  Almost  frantic  with  anxiety  for  his  missing  friend, 
Tony  mounted  on  a  bulwark,  and  scanned  every  boat  he 
could  see. 

"Back  her!"  screamed  the  skipper;  "there,  gently;  all 
right.  Go  ahead;"  and  now  with  a  shouldering,  surging 
heave,  the  great  black  monster  lazily  moved  forward,  and 
gained  the  middle  of  the  river.  Boats  were  now  hurrying 
wildly  to  this  side  and  to  that,  but  none  towards  the 
"Fojie."  "What  will  become  of  me?  What  will  he  think 
of  me  ?  "  cried  Tony ;  and  he  peered  down  into  the  yellow 
tide,  almost  doubtful  if  he  ought  not  to  jump  into  it. 

"Go  on,"  cried  the  skipper;  and  the  speed  increased,  a 
long  swell  issuing  from  either  paddle,  and  stretching  away 
to  either  bank  of  the  river.  Far  away  in  this  rocking  tide, 
tossing  hopelessly  and  in  vain,  Tony  saw  a  small  boat 
wherein  a  man  was  standing,  wildly  waving  his  handker- 
chief by  way  of  signal. 

"There  he  is,  in  one  minute;  give  him  one  minute,  and 
he  will  be  here,"  cried  Tony,  not  knowing  to  whom  he 
spoke. 

"You'll  get  jammed,  my  good  fellow,  if  you  don't  come 
down  from  that,"  said  a  sailor.  '^  You'll  be  caught  in  the 
davits  when  they  swing  round  ;  "  and  seeing  how  inattentive 
he  was  to  the  caution,  he  laid  a  hand  upon  him  and  forced 
him  upon  deck.     The  ship  had  now  turned  a  bend  of  the 


■4?,I*:<' 


A  STRANGE   MEETING  AND  PARTING.  145 

river,  and  as  Tony  turned  aft  to  look  for  the  boat,  she  was 
lost  to  him,  and  he  saw  her  no  more. 

For  some  miles  of  the  way,  all  were  too  much  occupied  to 
notice  him.  There  was  much  to  stow  away  and  get  in  order, 
the  cargo  having  been  taken  in  even  to  the  latest  moment 
before  they  started.  There  were  some  carriages  and  horses, 
too,  on  board,  neither  of  which  met  from  the  sailors  more 
deferential  care  than  they  bestowed  on  cast-metal  cranks  and 
iron  sleepers,  thus  occasioning  little  passages  between  those 
in  charge  and  the  crew,  that  were  the  reverse  of  amicable. 
It  was  in  one  of  these  Tony  heard  a  voice  he  was  long 
familiar  with.  It  was  Sir  Arthur  Lyle's  coachman,  who  was 
even  more  overjoyed  than  Tony  at  the  recognition.  He  had 
been  sent  over  to  fetch  four  carriage-horses  and  two  open 
carriages  for  his  master,  and  his  adventures  and  mishaps 
were,  in  his  own  estimation,  above  all  human  experience. 

"I'll  have  to  borrow  a  five-pound  note  from  you,"  said 
Tony  ;  "I  have  come  on  board  without  anything,  —  even  my 
luggage  is  left  behind." 

"  Five-and-twenty,  Mr..  Tony,  if  you  want  it.  I'm  as 
glad  as  fifty  to  see  you  here.  You  '11  be  able  to  make  these 
fellows  mind  what  I  say.  There  's  not  as  much  as  a  spare 
tarpaulin  to  put  over  the  beasts  at  night;  and  if  the  ship 
rocks,  their  legs  will  be  knocked  to  pieces." 

If  Tony  had  not  the  same  opinion  of  his  influence,  he  did 
not  however  hesitate  to  offer  his  services,  and  assisted  the 
coachman  to  pad  the  horse-boxes,  and  bandage  the  legs 
with  an  overlaid  covering  of  hay  rope,  against  any  acci- 
dents. 

"  Are  you  steerage  or  aft?  "  asked  a  surly-looking  steward 
of  Tony,  as  he  was  washing  his  hands  after  his  exertions. 

"There's  a  question  to  ask  of  one  of  the  best  blood  in 
Ireland,"  interposed  the  coachman. 

"The  best  blood  in  Ireland  will  then  have  to  pay  cabin 
fare,"  said  the  steward,  as  he  jotted  down  a  mem.  in  his 
book ;  and  Tony  was  now  easy  enough  in  mind  to  laugh  at 
the  fellow's  impertinence  as  he  paid  the  money. 

The  voyage  was  not  eventful  in  any  way;  the  weather 
was  fine,  the  sea  not  rough,  and  the  days  went  by  as  monoto- 
nously as  need  be.     If  Tony  had  been  given  to  reflection, 

10 


146  TONY  BUTLER. 

he  would  have  had  a  glorious  opportunity  to  indulge  the 
taste,  but  it  was  the  very  least  of  all  his  tendencies. 

He  would  indeed,  have  liked  much  to  review  his  life,  and 
map  out  something  of  his  future  road ;  but  he  could  do 
nothing  of  this  kind  without  a  companion.  Asking  him  to 
think  for  himself  and  by  himself  was  pretty  much  like  ask- 
ing him  to  play  chess  or  backgammon  with  himself,  where  it 
depended  on  his  caprice  which  side  was  to  be  the  winner. 
The  habit  of  self-depreciation  had,  besides,  got  hold  of  him, 
and  he  employed  it  as  an  excuse  to  cover  his  inertness. 
"What's  the  use  of  my  doing  this,  that,  or  t 'other?  I  '11  be 
a  stupid  dog  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  It 's  all  waste  of 
time  to  set  me  down  to  this  or  that.  Other  fellows  could 
learn  it,  — it's  impossible  for  me." 

It  is  strange  how  fond  men  will  grow  of  pleading  in  forma 
^pauperis  to  their  own  hearts,  —  even  men  constitutionally 
proud  and  high-spirited.  Tony  had  fallen  into  this  unlucky 
habit,  and  got  at  last  to  think  it  was  his  safest  way  in  life  to 
trust  very  little  to  his  judgment. 

''  If  I  had  n't  been  '  mooning,'  I  'd  not  have  walked  under 
the  pole  of  the  omnibus,  nor  chanced  upon  this  poor  fellow, 
whose  bundle  1  have  carried  away,  nor  lost  my  own  kit, 
which,  after  all,  was  something  to  me."  Worse  than  all 
these  —  infinitely  worse  —  was  the  thought  of  how  that  poor 
peasant  would  think  of  him  !  "  What  a  cruel  lesson  of  mis- 
trust and  suspicion  have  I  implanted  in  that  honest  heart ! 
What  a  terrible  revulsion  must  have  come  over  him,  when 
he  found  I  had  sailed  away  and  left  him !  "  Poor  Tony's 
reasoning  was  not  acute  enough  to  satisfy  him  that  the  man 
could  not  accuse  him  for  what  was  out  of  his  power  to  pre- 
vent, —  the  departure  of  the  steamer ;  nor  with  Tony's  own 
luggage  in  his  possession,  could  he  arraign  his  honesty,  or 
distrust  his  honor. 

He  bethought  him  that  he  would  consult  Waters,  for  whose 
judgment  in  spavins,  thoroughpins,  capped  hocks,  and  navic- 
ular lameness,  he  had  the  deepest  veneration.  Waters,  who 
knew  horses  so  thoroughly,  must  needs  not  be  altogether 
ignorant  of  men. 

"  I  say,  Tom,"  cried  he,  "  sit  down  here,  and  let  me  tell 
you  something  that 's  troubling  me  a  good  deal,  and  perhaps 


A  STRANGE   MEETING  AND  PARTING.  147 

you  can  give  me  some  advice  on  it."  They  sat  down  ac- 
cordingly under  the  shelter  of  a  horse-box,  while  Tony 
related  circumstantially  his  late  misadventure. 

The  old  coachman  heard  him  to  the  end  without  inter- 
ruption. He  smoked  throughout  the  whole  narrative,  only 
now  and  then  removing  his  pipe  to  intimate  by  an  emphatic 
nod  that  the  "  court  was  with  the  counsel."  Indeed,  he  felt 
that  there  was  something  judicial  in  his  position,  and  as- 
sumed a  full  share  of  importance  on  the  strength  of  it. 

»'  There  's  the  whole  case  now  before  you,"  said  Tony,  as 
he  finished,  —  "  what  do  you  say  to  it?  " 

*'^Yell,  there  an't  a  great  deal  to  say  to  it,  Mr.  Tony," 
said  he,  slowly.  "  If  the  other  chap  has  got  the  best  kit, 
by  course  he  has  got  the  best  end  of  the  stick ;  and  you 
may  have  an  easy  conscience  about  that.  If  there  's  any 
money  or  val'able  in  his  bundle,  it  is  just  likely  there  will 
be  some  trace  of  his  name,  and  where  he  lives  too ;  so 
that,  turn  out  either  way,  you're  all  right." 

"  So  that  you  advise  me  to  open  his  pack  and  see  if  I  can 
Qnd  a  clew  to  him." 

*'  Well,  indeed,  I'd  do  that  much  out  of  cur'osity.  At  all 
events,  you  '11  not  get  to  know  about  him  from  the  blue  hand- 
kercher  with  the  white  spots." 

Tony  did  not  quite  approve  the  counsel ;  he  had  his  scruples, 
i3ven  in  a  good  cause,  about  this  investigation,  and  he  walked 
the  deck  till  far  into  the  night,  pondering  over  it.  He  tried  to 
solve  the  case  by  speculating  on  what  the  countryman  would 
have  done  with  his  pack.  "  He  '11  have  doubtless  tried  to  find 
out  where  I  am  to  be  met  with  or  come  at.  He  '11  have  ran- 
sacked my  traps,  and  if  so,  there  will  be  the  less  need  of  mfj 
investigating  his.  He's  sure  to  trace  we."  This  reasoning 
satisfied  him  so  perfectly  that  he  lay  down  at  last  to  sleep  with 
an  easy  conscience  and  so  weary  a  brain  that  he  slept  pro- 
foundly. As  he  awoke,  however,  he  found  that  Waters  had 
already  decided  the  point  of  conscience  which  had  so  troubled 
him,  and  was  now  sitting  contemplating  the  contents  of  the 
peasant's  bundle. 

"  There  an't  so  much  as  a  scrap  o'  writing,  Mr.  Tony ;  there 
an't  even  a  prayer-book  with  his  name  in  it,  — but  there  's  a 
track  to  him  for  all  that.     I  have  him !  "  and  he  winked  with 


148  TONY  BUTLER. 

that  self-satisfied  knowingness  which  had  so  often  delighted 
him  in  the  detection  of  a  splint  or  a  bone-spavin. 

"  You  have  him,"  repeated  Tony.    "  Well,  what  of  him  ?  " 

"  He  's  a  jailer,  sir,  —  yes,  a  jailer.  I  won't  say  he  's  the 
chief,  —  he 's  maybe  second  or  third,  —  but  he 's  one  of  'em." 

*'  How  do  you  know  that?  " 

'*  Here's  how  I  found  it  out;  "  and  he  drew  forth  a  blue 
cloth  uniform,  with  yellow  cuffs  and  collar,  and  a  yellow  seam 
down  the  trousers.  There  were  no  buttons  on  the  coat,  but 
both  on  the  sleeve  and  the  collar  were  embroidered  two  keys, 
crosswise.  "  Look  at  them.  Master  Tony  ;  look  at  them,  and 
say  an't  that  as  clear  as  day?  It's  some  new  regulation,  I 
suppose,  to  put  them  in  uniform ;  and  there  's  the  keys,  the 
mark  of  the  lock-up,  to  show  who  he  is  that  wears  them." 

Though  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  read  riddles  or 
unravel  difficulties,  Tony  did  not  accept  this  information 
very  willingly.  In  truth,  he  felt  a  repugnance  to  assign  to 
the  worthy  country  fellow  a  station  which  bears,  in  the 
appreciation  of  every  Irishman,  a  certain  stain.  For,  do 
as  we  will,  reason  how  we  may,  the  old  estimate  of  the  \slvi 
as  an  oppression  surges  up  through  our  thoughts,  just  a& 
springs  well  up  in  an  undrained  soil. 

*'  I  'm  certain  you  're  wrong.  Waters,"  said  he,  boldly ;  "  h^ 
had  n't  a  bit  the  look  of  that  about  him  :  he  was  a  fine,  fresh- 
featured,  determined  sort  of  fellow,  but  without  a  trace  o1 
cunning  or  distrust  in  his  face." 

"•  I  '11  stand  to  it  I  'm  right,  Master  Tony.  What  does  keys 
mean?  Answer  me  that.  An't  they  to  lock  up?  It  must  be 
to  lock  up  something  or  somebody,  —  j^ou  agree  to  that  ?  " 

Tony  gave  a  sort  of  grunt,  which  the  other  took  for  con- 
currence, and  continued. 

"  It's  clear  enough  he  an't  the  county  treasurer,"  said  he, 
with  a  mocking  laugh,  —  "  nor  he  don't  keep  the  Queen's 
private  purse  neither;  no,  sir.  It's  another  sort  of  val'- 
ables  is  under  his  charge.  It 's  highwaymen  and  house- 
breakers and  felony  chaps." 

' '  Not  a  bit  of  it ;  he 's  no  more  a  jailer  than  I  'm  a  hangman . 
Besides,  what  is  to  prove  that  this  uniform  is  his  own?  Why 
not  be  a  friend's,  — a  relation's?  Would  a  fellow  trained  to 
the  ways  of  a  prison  trust  the  first  man  he  meets  in  the  street, 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  AND  PARTING.      149 

and  hand  him  over  his  bundle  ?  Is  that  like  one  whose  daily 
life  is  passed  among  rogues  and  vagabonds?" 

"  That 's  exactly  how  it  is,"  said  Waters,  closing  one  eye  to 
look  more  piercingly  astute.  '^  Did  you  ever  see  anything 
trust  another  so  much  as  a  cat  does  a  mouse?  She  hasn't 
no  dirty  suspicions  at  all,  but  lets  him  run  here  and  run  there, 
only  with  a  make-believe  of  her  paw  letting  him  feel  that  he 
an't  to  trespass  too  far  on  her  patience." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  Tony,  turning  away  angrily ;  and  he  mut- 
tered to  himself  as  he  walked  off,  "  how  stupid  it  is  to  take 
any  view  of  life  from  a  fellow  who  has  never  looked  at  it  from 
a  higher  point  than  a  hayloft !  " 

As  the  steamer  rounded  Fairhead,  and  the  tall  cliffs  of  the 
Causeway  came  into  view,  other  thoughts  soon  chased  away 
all  memory  of  the  poor  country  fellow.  It  was  home  was  now 
before  him,  —  home,  tiiat  no  humility  can  rob  of  its  hold  upon 
the  heart ;  home,  that  appeals  to  the  poorest  of  us  by  the  self- 
same sympathies  the  richest  and  greatest  feel !  Yes,  yonder 
was  Carrig-a-Rede,  and  there  were  the  Skerries,  so  near  and 
yet  so  far  off.  How  slowly  the  great  mass  seemed  to  move, 
though  it  was  about  an  hour  ago  she  seemed  to  cleave  the 
water  like  a  fish  !  How  unfair  to  stop  her  course  at  Larne  to 
land  those  two  or  three  passengers,  aud  what  tiresome  leave- 
takings  they  indulge  in ;  and  the  luggage,  too,  they  '11  never 
get  it  together  !  So  thought  Tony,  his  impatience  mastering 
both  reason  and  generosity. 

"  I  '11  have  to  take  the  horses  on  to  Derry,  Master  Tony," 
said  Waters,  in  an  insinuating  tone  of  voice,  for  he  knew 
well  what  able  assistance  the  other  could  lend  him  in  any 
difficulty  of  the  landing.  "Sir  Arthur  thought  that  if  the 
weather  was  fine  we  might  be  able  to  get  them  out  on  a  raft 
and  tow  them  into  shore,  but  it's  too  rough  for  that." 

"  Far  too  rough,"  said  Tony,  his  eyes  straining  to  catch 
the  well-known  landmarks  of  the  coast. 

"And  with  blood-horses  too,  in  top  condition,  there's 
more  danger." 

"  Far  more." 

"So,  I  hope,  your  honor  will  tell  the  master  that  I  didn't 
ask  the  captain  to  stop,  for  I  saw  it  was  no  use." 

"None  whatever.  I'll  tell  him,  —  that  is,  if  I  see  him/* 
muttered  Tony,  below  his  breath. 


150  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  Maybe,  if  there  was  too  much  sea  '  on  '  for  youi'  honor 
to  land  —  " 

''  What?"  interrupted  Tony,  eying  him  sternly. 

"  I  was  saying,  sir,  that  if  your  honor  was  forced  to  come 
on  to  Derry  —  " 

"  How  should  I  be  forced?  " 

''By  the  heavy  surf,  no  less,"  said  Waters,  peevishly,  for 
he  foresaw  failure  to  his  negotiation. 

"The  tide  will  be  on  the  flood  till  eleven,  and  if  they 
can't  lower  a  boat,  I  '11  swim  it,  that 's  all.  As  to  going  on 
to  Derry  with  you,  Tom,"  added  he,  laughing,  "  I  'd  not  do 
it  if  you  were  to  give  me  your  four  thoroughbreds  for  it." 

"  Well,  the  wind  's  freshening,  anyhow/'  grumbled  Waters, 
not  very  sorry,  perhaps,  at  the  turn  the  weather  was  taking. 

"  It  will  be  the  rougher  for  j^ou  as  you  sail  up  the  Lough," 
said  Tony,  as  he  lighted  his  cigar. 

Waters  pondered  a  good  deal  over  what  he  could  not  but 
regard  as  a  great  change  in  character.  This  young  man,  so 
gay,  so  easy,  so  careless,  so  ready  to  do  anything  or  do 
nothing,  —  how  earnest  he  had  grown,  and  how  resolute,  and 
how  stern  too !  Was  this  a  sign  that  the  world  was  going 
well,  or  the  reverse,  with  him?  Here  was  a  knotty  problem, 
and  one  which,  in  some  form  or  other,  has  ere  now  puzzled 
wiser  heads  than  Waters's.  For  as  the  traveller  threw  off  in 
the  sunshine  the  cloak  which  he  had  gathered  round  him  in 
the  storm,  prosperity  will  as  often  disclose  the  secrets  of  our 
hearts  as  that  very  poverty  that  has  not  wealth  enough  to 
buy  a  padlock  for  them. 

"  You  want  to  land  here,  young  man,"  said  the  captain  to 
Tony  ;  "  and  there  's  a  shore-boat  close  alongside.  Be  alive, 
and  jump  in  when  she  comes  near." 

"Good-bye,  Tom,"  said  Ton}^  shaking  hands  with  him. 
"  I  '11  report  well  of  the  beasts,  and  say  also  how  kindly  you 
treated  me." 

"  You  '11  tell  Sir  Arthur  that  the  rub  on  the  off  shoulder 
won't  signify,  sir;  and  that  Emperor's  hock  is  going  down 
every  day.  And  please  to  say,  sir,  —  for  he  '11  mind  you 
more  than  me,  —  that  there  's  nothing  will  keep  beasts  from 
kicking  when  a  ship  takes  to  rollin' ;  and  that  when  the 
helpers  got  sea-sick,  and  could  n't  keep  on  deck,  if  it  had  n't 


A  STRANGE   MEETING  AND  PARTING.  151 

been  for  yourself —  Oh,  he's  not  minding  a  word  I'm 
saying,"  muttered  he,  disconsolately;  and  certainly  this  was 
the  truth,  for  Tony  was  now  standing  on  a  bulwark,  with  the 
end  of  a  rope  in  his  hand,  slung  whip  fashion  from  the  yard, 
to  enable  him  to  swing  himself  at  an  opportune  moment  into 
the  boat,  all  the  efforts  of  the  rowers  being  directed  to  keep 
her  from  the  steamer's  side. 

"  Now's  your  time,  my  smart  fellow,"  cried  the  Captain, 
—  "off  with  you!  "  And,  as  he  spoke,  Tony  swung  him- 
self free  with  a  bold  spring,  and,  just  as  the  boat  rose  on  a 
wave,  dropped  neatly  into  her. 

"  Well  done  for  a  landsman!  "  cried  the  skipper;  ''port 
the  helm,  and  keep  away." 

"You're  forgetting  the  bundle.  Master  Tony,"  cried 
Waters,  and  he  flung  it  towards  him  with  all  his  strength ; 
but  it  fell  short,  dropped  into  the  sea,  floated  for  about  a 
second  or  so,  and  then  sank  forever. 

Tony  uttered  what  was  not  exactly  a  blessing  on  his  awk- 
wardness, and,  turning  his  back  to  the  steamer,  seized  the 
tiller  and  steered  for  shore. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

AT    THE    ABBEY. 

"Who  said  that  Tony  Butler  had  come  back?  "said  Sir 
Arthur,  as  they  sat  at  breakfast  on  the  day  after  his  arrival. 

"  The  gardener  saw  him  last  night,  papa,"  said  Mrs. 
Trafford ;  *' he  was  sitting  with  his  mother  on  the  rocks 
below  the  cottage ;  and  when  Gregg  saluted  him,  he  called 
out,  '  All  well  at  the  Abbey,  I  hope  ? '  " 

*'  It  would  have  been  more  suitable  if  he  had  taken  the 
trouble  to  assure  himself  of  that  fact  by  a  visit  here,"  said 
Lady  Lyle.     "  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Maitland?" 

"  I  am  disposed  to  agree  with  you,"  said  he,  gravely. 

"Besides,"  added  Sir  Arthur,  "  he  must  have  come  over 
in  the  '  Foyle,'  and  ought  to  be  able  to  bring  me  some  news 
of  my  horses.  Those  two  rough  nights  have  made  me  very 
uneasy  about  them." 

"Another  reason  for  a  little  attention  on  his  part,"  said 
her  Ladyship,  bridling ;  and  then,  as  if  anxious  to  show  that 
so  insignificant  a  theme  could  not  weigh  on  her  thoughts,  she 
asked  her  daughter  when  Mark  and  Isabella  purposed  coming 
home. 

"They  spoke  of  Saturdaj^,  mamma;  but  it  seems  now 
that  Mrs.  Maxwell  has  got  up  —  or  somebody  has  for  her  — 
an  archery  meeting  for  Tuesday,  and  she  writes  a  most 
pressing  entreaty  for  me  to  drive  over,  and,  if  possible, 
persuade  Mr.  Maitland  to  accompany  me." 

"  Which  I  sincerely  trust  he  will  not  think  of." 

"  And  why,  dearest  mamma?" 

"  Can  you  ask  me,  Alice?  Have  we  not  pushed  Mr. 
Maitland's  powers  of  patience  far  enough  by  our  own  dul- 
ness,  without  subjecting  him  to  the  stupidities  of  Tilney 
Park?  —  the  dreariest  old  mansion  of  a  dreary  neighborhood/* 


AT  THE   ABBEY.  153 

"But  he  might  like  it.  As  a  matter  of  experimental 
research,  he  told  us  how  he  passed  an  autumn  with  the 
Mandans,  and  ate  nothing  but  eels  and  wood-squirrels." 

"  You  are  forgetting  the  prairie  rats,  which  are  really 
delicacies.'* 

"  Nor  did  I  include  the  charms  of  the  fair  Chachinhontas, 
who  was  the  object  of  your  then  affections,"  said  she, 
laughingly,  but  in  a  lower  tone. 

"  So,  then,"  said  he,  "  Master  Mark  has  been  playing 
traitor,  and  divulging  my  confidence.  The  girl  was  a 
marvellous  horsewoman,  which  is  a  rare  gift  with  Indian 
women.  I  've  seen  her  sit  a  drop-leap  —  I  '11  not  venture  to 
say  the  depth,  but  certainl}^  more  than  the  height  of  a  man 
—  with  her  arms  extended  wide,  and  the  bridle  loose  and 
flowing." 

' '  And  you  followed  in  the  same  fashion  ?  "  asked  Alice, 
with  a  roguish  twinkle  of  the  eye. 

"I  see  that  Mark  has  betrayed  me  all  through,"  said  he, 
laughing.  "  I  own  I  tried  it,  but  not  with  the  success  that 
such  ardor  deserved.  I  came  head-foremost  to  the  ground 
before  ray  horse." 

"  After  all,  Mr.  Maitland,  one  is  not  obliged  to  ride  like  a 
savage,"  said  Lady  Lyle. 

"  Except  when  one  aspires  to  the  hand  of  a  savage 
princess,  mamma.  Mr.  Maitland  was  ambitious  in  those 
days." 

"  Very  true,"  said  he,  with  a  deep  sigh  ;  "  but  it  was  the 
only  time  in  my  life  in  which  I  could  say  that  I  suffered 
my  affection  to  be  influenced  by  mere  worldly  advantages. 
She  was  a  great  heiress ;  she  had  a  most  powerful  family 
connection." 

"  How  absurd  you  are !  "  said  Lady  Lyle,  good-humoredly. 

"Let  him  explain  himself,  mamma;  it  is  so  very  seldom 
he  will  condescend  to  let  us  learn  any  of  his  sentiments  on 
any  subject.     Let  us  hear  him  about  marriage." 

"It  is  an  institution  I  sincerely  venerate.  If  I  have  not 
entered  into  the  holy  estate  myself,  it  is  simply  from  feeling  I 
am  not  good  enough.  I  stand  without  the  temple,  and  only 
strain  my  eyes  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  sanctuary." 

"  Does  it  appear  to  you  so  very  awful  and  appalling, 
then?"  said  my  Lady. 


154  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  Certainly  it  does.  All  the  efforts  of  our  present  civiliza- 
tion seem  directed  to  that  end.  We  surround  it  with  what- 
ever can  inspire  terror.  We  call  in  the  Law  as  well  as  the 
Church,  —  we  add  the  Statutes  to  the  Liturgy ;  and  we  close 
the  whole  with  the  most  depressing  of  all  festivities,  —  a 
wedding-breakfast." 

"  And  the  Mandans,  do  they  take  a  more  cheerful  view  of 
matters?"  asked  Alice. 

''  How  can  you  be  so  silly,  Alice?  "  cried  Lady  L^^le. 

"  My  dear  mamma,  are  you  forgetting  what  a  marvellous 
opportunity  we  enjoy  of  learning  the  geography  of  an  un- 
known sea,  from  one  of  the  only  voyagers  who  has  ever 
traversed  it?  " 

"Do  you  mean  to  go  to  Tilney,  Alice?"  asked  her 
mother,  curtly. 

"  If  Mr.  Maitland  would  like  to  add  Mrs.  Maxwell  to  his 
curiosities  of  acquaintance." 

"  I  have  met  her  already.  I  think  her  charming.  She 
told  me  of  some  port,  or  a  pair  of  coach-horses,  I  can't  be 
certain  which,  her  late  husband  purchased  forty-two  years 
ago ;  and  she  so  mingled  the  subjects  together,  that  I  fancied 
the  horses  were  growing  yellow,  and  the  wine  actually 
frisky." 

*'  I  see  that  you  have  really  listened  to  her,"  said  Mrs. 
Trafford.     "Well,  do  you  consent  to  this  visit?" 

"  Delighted.  Tell  me,  by  way  of  parenthesis,  is  she  a 
near  neighbor  of  the  worthy  Commodore  with  the  charming 
daughters?     Gambler  Graham,  I  think  his  name  is." 

"  Yes ;  she  lives  about  twelve  miles  from  his  cottage  :  but 
why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  I  have  either  promised,  or  he  fancies  I  have  promised, 
to  pay  him  a  flying  visit." 

"  Another  case  of  a  savage  princess,"  whispered  Mrs. 
Trafford  ;  and  he  laughed  heartily  at  the  conceit.  "If  we 
take  the  low  road,  —  it 's  very  little  longer  and  much  prettier, 
—  we  pass  the  cottage ;  and  if  your  visit  be  not  of  great 
length,  —  more  than  a  morning  call,  in  fact,  —  I  '11  go  there 
with  you." 

"You  overwhelm  me  with  obligations,"  said  he,  bowing 
low,  to  which  she  replied  by  a  courtesy  so  profound  as  to 
throw  an  air  of  ridicule  over  his  courtly  politeness. 


AT  THE   ABBEY.  155 

*'  Shall  we  say  to-morrow  for  our  departure,  Mr.  Mait- 
land?" 

*'  I  am  at  your  orders,  madam." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  write  to  dear  old  Aunt  Maxwell — I 
suppose  she'll  be  your  aunt  too  before  you  leave  Tiluey 
(for  we  all  adopt  a  relation  so  very  rich  and  without  an 
heir)  —  and  delight  her  by  saying  that  I  have  secured  Mr. 
Maitland,  an  announcement  which  will  create  a  flutter  in  the 
neighborhood  by  no  means  conducive  to  good  archery." 

"Tell  her  we  only  give  him  up  till  Wednesday,"  said 
Lady  Lyle,  "  for  I  hope  to  have  the  Crayshaws  here  by  that 
time,  and  I  shall  need  you  all  back  to  receive  them." 

"  More  beauties,  Mr.  Maitland,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Trafford. 
**  What  are  you  looking  so  grave  about?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  it  was  just  possible  that  I  might  be  called 
away  suddenly,  and  that  there  are  some  letters  I  ought  to 
write ;  and,  last  of  all,  whether  I  should  n't  go  and  make  a 
hurried  visit  to  Mrs.  Butler ;  for  in  talking  over  old  friends 
in  Scotland,  we  have  grown  already  intimate." 

"  What  a  mysterious  face  for  such  small  concerns!  "  said 
Mrs.  Trafford.  "Didn't  you  say  something,  papa,  about 
driving  me  over  to  look  at  the  two-year-olds  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  am  going  to  inspect  the  paddock,  and  told  Giles 
to  meet  me  there." 

''What's  the  use  of  our  going  without  Tony?"  said  she, 
disconsolately;  "he's  the  only  one  of  us  knows  anything 
about  a  colt." 

"  I  really  did  hope  you  were  beginning  to  learn  that  this 
young  gentleman  was  not  an  essential  of  our  daily  life  here," 
said  Lady  Lyle,  haughtily.  "  I  am  sorry  that  I  should  have 
deceived  myself." 

''  My  dear  mamma,  please  to  remember  your  own  ponies 
that  have  become  undrivable,  and  Selim,  that  can't  even  be 
saddled.  Gregg  will  tell  you  that  he  does  n't  know  what  has 
come  over  the  melon-bed,  —  the  plants  look  all  scorched  and 
withered  ;  and  it  was  only  yesterday  papa  said  that  he  'd  have 
the  schooner  drawn  up  till  Tony  came  back  to  decide  on  the 
new  keel  and  the  balloon  jib  !  " 

"  What  a  picture  of  us  to  present  to  Mr.  Maitland  !  but  I 
trust,  sir,  that  you  know  something  of  my  daughter's  talent 


156  TONY  BUTLER. 

for  exaggerated  description  by  this  time,  and  you  will  not 
set  us  down  for  the  incapables  she  would  exhibit  us."  Lady 
Lyle  moved  haughtily  away  as  she  spoke ;  and  Sir  Arthur, 
drawing  Mrs.  Trafford's  arm  within  his  own,  said,  "  You're 
in  a  fighting  mood  to-day.     Come  over  and  torment  Giles." 

'*  There  's  nothing  I  like  better,"  said  she.  "  Let  me  go 
for  my  hat  and  a  shawl." 

''  And  I'm  off  to  my  letter- writing,"  said  Maitland. 


CHAPTER   XVn. 


AT    THE    COTTAGE. 


What  a  calm,  still,  mellow  evening  it  was,  as  Tony  sat 
with  his  mother  in  the  doorway  of  the  cottage,  their  hands 
clasped,  and  in  silence,  each  very  full  of  thought,  indeed,  but 
still  fuller  of  that  sweet  luxury,  the  sense  of  being  together 
after  an  absence,  —  the  feeling  that  home  was  once  more 
home,  in  all  that  can  make  it  a  centre  of  love  and  affection. 

"I  began  to  think  you  were  n't  coming  back  at  all,  Tony," 
said  she,  ''when  first  you  said  Tuesday,  and  then  it  was 
Friday,  and  then  it  came  to  be  the  middle  of  another  week. 
'  Ah  me! '  said  I  to  the  doctor,  'he  '11  not  like  the  little  cot- 
tage  down  amongst  the  tall  ferns  and  the  heather,  after  all 
that  grand  town  and  its  fine  people.'  " 

"If  you  knew  how  glad  I  am  to  be  back  here,"  said  he, 
with  a  something  like  choking  about  the  throat;  "if  you 
knew  what  a  different  happiness  I  feel  under  this  old  porch, 
and  with  you  beside  me  1  " 

"  My  dear,  dear  Tony,  let  us  hope  we  are  to  have  many 
such  evenings  as  this  together.  Let  me  now  hear  all  about 
your  journey;  for,  as  yet,  you  have  only  told  me  about  that 
good-hearted  country  fellow  whose  bundle  has  been  lost. 
Begin  at  the  beginning,  and  try  and  remember  everything." 

"Here  goes,  then,  for  a  regular  report.  See,  mother, 
you'd  not  believe  it  of  me,  but  I  jotted  all  down  in  a 
memorandum-book,  so  that  there 's  no  trusting  to  bad 
memory;  all's  in  black  and  white." 

"That  ivds  prudent,  Tony.  I  'm  really  glad  that  you  have 
such  forethought.     Let  me  see  it." 

"No,  no.  It's  clean  and  clear  beyond  your  reading.  I 
shall  be  luck}'  enough  if  I  can  decipher  it  myself.  Here  we 
begin:  '  Albion,  Liverpool.     Capital    breakfast,   but  dear. 


158  TONY  BUTLER. 

Wanted  change  for  my  crown-piece,  but  chaffed  out  of  it  by 
pretty  barmaid,  who  said  '  —  Oh,  that 's  all  stuff  and  non- 
sense," said  he,  reddening.  "  '  Mail-train  to  London;  not 
allowed  to  smoke  first-class;  travelled  third,  and  had  my 
'baccy.'  I  need  n't  read  all  this  balderdash,  mother;  I  '11  go 
on  to  business  matters.  '  Skefty,  a  trump,  told  me  where  he 
buys  "birdseye"  for  one  and  nine  the  pound;  and,  mixed 
with  cavendish,  it  makes  grand  smoking.  Skeffy  says  he  '11 
get  me  the  first  thing  vacant. '  " 

"Who  is  Skefty?     I  never  heard  of  him  before." 

"Of  course  you  've  heard.  He  's  private  secretary  to  Sir 
Harry,  and  gives  away  all  the  Otiice  patronage.  I  don't 
think  he  's  five  feet  five  high,  but  he  's  made  like  a  Hercules. 
Tom  Sayers  says  Skeffy's  deltoid  —  that's  the  muscle  up 
liere  —  is  finer  than  any  in  the  ring,  and  he  's  such  an  active 
devil.  I  must  tell  you  of  the  day  I  held  up  the  '  Times  ' 
for  him  to  jump  through;  but  I  see  you  are  impatient  for 
the  serious  things :  well,  now  for  it. 

"Sir  Han-y,  cruel  enough,  in  a  grand  sort  of  overbearing 
way,  told  me  my  father  was  called  Watty.  I  don't  believe 
it;  at  least,  the  fellow  who  took  the  liberty  must  have  earned 
the  right  by  a  long  apprenticeship." 

"  You  are  right  there,  Tony ;  there  were  not  many  would 
venture  on  it." 

"Did  any  one  ever  call  him  Wat  Tartar,  mother?  " 

"If  they  had,  they  'd  have  caught  one,  Tony,  I  promise 
you. " 

"I  thought  so.  Well,  he  went  on  to  say  that  he  had 
nothing  he  could  give  me.  It  was  to  the  purport  that  I  was 
fit  for  nothing,  and  I  agreed  with  him." 

"That  was  not  just  prudent,  Tony;  the  world  is  prone 
enough  to  disparage  without  helping  them  to  the  road 
to  it/' 

"Possibly;  but  he  read  me  like  a  book,  and  said  that  I 
only  came  to  him  because  I  was  hopeless.  He  asked  me  if 
I  knew  a  score  of  things  he  was  well  aware  that  I  must  be 
ignorant  of,  and  groaned  every  time  I  said  '  No!  '  When 
he  said,  '  Go  home  and  brush  up  your  French  and  Italian,' 
I  felt  as  if  he  said,  '  Look  over  your  rent  roll,  and  thin  your 
young  timber.'     He  's  a  humbug,  mother." 


AT  THE   COTTAGE.  159 

"Oh,  Tony,  you  must  not  say  that." 

"I  will  say  it;  he  's  a  humbug,  and  so  is  the  other." 

"Who  is  the  other  you  speak  of?" 

"Lord  Ledgerton,  a  smartish  old  fellow,  with  a  pair  of 
gray  eyes  that  look  through  you,  and  a  mouth  that  you  can't 
guess  whether  he's  going  to  eat  you  up  or  to  quiz  you.  It 
was  he  that  said,  '  Make  Butler  a  messenger.'  They  did  n't 
like  it.  The  Office  fellows  looked  as  sulky  as  night;  but 
they  had  to  bow  and  snigger,  and  say,  '  Certainly,  my 
Lord ;  '  but  I  know  what  they  intend,  for  all  that.  They 
mean  to  pluck  me;  that 's  the  way  they  '11  do  it;  for  when  I 
said  I  was  nothing  to  boast  of  in  English,  and  something 
worse  in  French,  they  grinned  and  exchanged  smiles,  as 
much  as  to  say,  '  There  's  a  rasper  he  '11  never  get  over.'  " 

"And  what  is  a  messenger,  Tony?" 

"He  's  a  fellow  that  carries  the  despatches  over  the  whole 
world,  —  at  least,  wherever  there  is  civilization  enough  to 
have  a  Minister  or  an  Envoy.  He  starts  off  from  Downing 
Street  with  half-a-dozen  great  bags  as  tall  as  me,  and  he 
drops  one  at  Paris,  another  at  Munich,  another  at  Turin, 
and  perhaps  the  next  at  Timbuctoo.  He  goes  full  speed,  — 
regular  steeple-chase  pace,  —  and  punches  the  head  of  the 
first  postmaster  that  delays  him;  and  as  he  is  well  paid, 
and  has  nothing  to  think  of  but  the  road,  the  life  is  n't  such 
a  bad  one." 

"And  does  it  lead  to  anything;  is  there  any  promotion 
from  it?  " 

"Not  that  I  know,  except  to  a  pension;  but  who  wants 
anything  better?  Who  asks  for  a  jollier  life  than  rattling 
over  Europe  in  all  directions  at  the  Queen's  expense? 
Once  on  a  time  they  were  all  snobs,  or  the  same  thing ;  now 
they  are  regular  swells,  who  dine  with  the  Minister,  and 
walk  into  the  attaches  at  billiards  or  blind  hookey ;  for  the 
dons  saw  it  was  a  grand  thing  to  keep  the  line  for  younger 
sons,  and  have  a  career  where  learning  might  be  left  out, 
and  brains  were  only  a  burden!  " 

"I  never  heard  of  such  a  line  of  life,"  said  she,  gravely. 

"I  had  it  from  the  fellows  themselves.  There  were  five 
of  them  in  the  waiting-room,  tossing  for  sovereigns,  and 
cursing    the  first  clerk,   whoever  he  is;  and    they   told   me 


160  TONY  BUTLER. 

they  'd  not  change  with  the  first  secretaries  of  any  legation 
in  P^urope.  But  who  is  this,  mother,  that  I  see  coming  down 
the  hill?  —  he  's  no  acquaintance  of  ours,  I  think?" 

"Oh,  it 's  Mr.  Maitland,  Tony,"  said  she,  in  some  con- 
fusion ;  for  she  was  not  always  sure  in  what  temper  Tony 
would  receive  a  stranger. 

"And  who  may  Mr.  Maitland  be?" 

"A  very  charming  and  a  very  kind  person,  too,  whose 
acquaiutance  I  made  since  you  left  this;  he  brought  me 
books  and  flowers,  and  some  geranium  slips;  and,  better 
than  all,  his  own  genial  company." 

"Ue  's  not  much  of  a  sportsman,  I  see;  that  short  gun  he 
carries  is  more  like  a  walking-stick  than  a  fowling-piece." 
And  Tony  turned  his  gaze  seaward,  as  though  the  stranger 
was  not  worth  a  further  scrutiny. 

"They  told  me  I  should  find  you  here,  madam,"  said 
Maitland,  as  he  came  forward,  with  his  hat  raised,  and  a 
pleasant  smile  on  his  face. 

"My  son,  sir,"  said  the  old  lady,  proudly, — "my  son 
Tony,  of  whom  I  have  talked  to  you." 

"I  shall  be  charmed  if  Mr.  Butler  will  allow  me  to  take 
that  place  in  his  acquaintance  which  a  sincere  interest  in 
him  gives  me  some  claim  to,"  said  Maitland,  approaching 
Tony,  intending  to  shake  his  hand,  but  too  cautious  to  risk 
a  repulse,  if  it  should  be  meditated. 

Tony  drew  himself  up  haughtily,  and  said,  "I  am  much 
honored,  sir;  but  I  don't  see  any  reason  for  such  an  interest 
in  me." 

"Oh,  Tony,"  broke  in  the  widow;  but  Maitland  inter- 
rupted, and  said:  "It's  easy  enough  to  explain.  Your 
mother  and  myself  have  grown,  in  talking  over  a  number 
of  common  friends,  to  fancy  that  we  knew  each  other  long 
ago.  It  was,  I  assure  you,  a  very  fascinating  delusion  for 
me.  I  learned  to  recall  some  of  the  most  cherished  of  my 
early  friends,  and  remember  traits  in  them  which  had  been 
the  delight  of  my  childhood.  Pray  forgive  me,  then,  if  in 
such  a  company  your  figure  got  mixed  up,  and  I  thought  or 
fancied  that  I  knew  you." 

There  was  a  rapid  eagerness  in  the  manner  he  said  these 
words  that  seemed  to  vouch  for  their  sincerity;  but  their 


-5y'/feSr^:i-^.f^-  -' 


c^/ ^^v//  ,i^«^^  i^^i-^  A/'^tr^tr?/^ ^hc>^^.,^/^A  cr//  ^-^f-i/^i^i^^ 


-Y?z    rn^^ 


AT  THE  COTTAGE.  161 

only  immediate  effect  was  to  make  Tony  very  ill  at  ease  and 
awkward. 

"Mr.  Maitland  has  not  told  you,  as  he  might  have  told 
you,  Tony,  that  he  came  here  with  the  offer  of  a  substantial 
service.  He  had  heard  that  you  were  in  search  of  some 
pursuit  or  occupation." 

"Pray,  madam,  I  entreat  of  you  to  say  nothing  of  this 
now ;  wait,  at  least,  until  Mr.  Butler  and  I  shall  know  more 
of  each  other." 

"A  strange  sort  of  a  piece  you  have  there,"  said  Tony, 
in   his  confusion;  for  his  cheek  was    scarlet  with  shame, 

—  "something  between  an  old  duelling-pistol  and  a 
carbine." 

"It's  a  short  Tyrol  rifle,  a  peasant's  weapon.  It's  not 
a  very  comely  piece  of  ordnance,  but  it  is  very  true  and 
easy  to  carry.  I  bought  it  from  an  old  chamois-hunter  at 
Maltz ;  and  I  carried  it  with  me  this  morning  with  the  hope 
that  you  would  accept  it." 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  think  of  it;  I  beg  you  to  excuse  me. 
I  'm  much  obliged ;  in  fact,  I  never  do  —  never  did  —  take  a 
present." 

"That's  true,  sir.  Tony  and  I  bear  our  narrow  means 
only  because  there  's  a  sort  of  rugged  independence  in  our 
natures  that  saves  us  from  craving  for  whatever  we  can  do 
without." 

"A  pretty  wide  catalogue,  too,  I  assure  you,"  said  Tony, 
laughing,  and  at  once  recovering  his  wonted  good-humor. 
"We  have  made  what  the  officials  call  the  extraordinaries 
fill  a  very  small  column.  There!"  cried  he,  suddenly,  "is 
the  sea-gull  on  that  point  of  rock  yonder  out  of  range  for 
your  rifle  ?  " 

"Nothing  near  it.  Will  you  try?"  asked  Maitland, 
offering  the  gun. 

"I  'd  rather  see  you." 

"I'm  something  out  of  practice  latterly.  I  have  been 
leading  a  town  life,"  said  Maitland,  as  he  drew  a  small  eye- 
glass from  his  pocket  and  fixed  it  in  his  eye.  "Is  it  that 
fellow  there  you  mean  ?    There  's  a  far  better  shot  to  the  left, 

—  that  large  diver  that  is  sitting  so  calmly  on  the  rolling 
sea.     There  he  is  again." 

11 


162  TONY  BUTLER. 

"He  's  gone  now,  ^ he  has  dived,"  said  Tony;  "there's 
nothing  harder  to  hit  than  one  of  these  birds,  —  what  be- 
tween the  motion  of  the  sea  and  their  own  wariness.  Some 
people  say  that  they  scent  gunpowder." 

"That  fellow  shall!"  said  Maitland,  as  he  fired;  for  just 
as  the  bird  emerged  from  the  depth,  he  sighted  him,  and 
with  one  flutter  the  creature  fell  dead  on  the  wave. 

"A  splendid  shot;  I  never  saw  a  finer!  "  cried  Tony,  in 
ecstasy,  and  with  a  look  of  honest  admiration  at  the  marks- 
man. ''I'd  have  bet  ten  —  ay,  twenty  —  to  one  you  'd  have 
missed.  I  'm  not  sure  I  'd  not  wager  against  your  doing 
the  same  trick  again." 

"You  'd  lose  your  money,  then,"  said  Maitland;  "at  least, 
if  I  was  rogue  enough  to  take  you  up." 

"You  must  be  one  of  the  best  shots  in  Europe,  then!  " 

"No;  they  call  me  second  in  the  Tyrol.  Hans  Godrel  is 
the  first.  "VVe  have  had  many  matches  together,  and  he  has 
always  beaten  me." 

The  presence  of  a  royal  prince  would  not  have  inspired 
Tony  with  the  same  amount  of  respect  as  these  few  words, 
uttered  negligently  and  carelessly;  and  he  measured  the 
speaker  from  head  to  foot,  recognizing  for  the  first  time  his 
lithe  and  well-knit,  well-proportioned  figure. 

"I  '11  be  bound  you  are  a  horseman,  too?"  cried  Tony. 

"If  you  hadn't  praised  my  shooting,  I  'd  tell  you  that  I 
ride  better  than  I  shoot." 

"How  I  'd  like  to  have  a  brush  across  country  with  you!  " 
exclaimed  Tony,  warmly. 

"What  easier?  —  what  so  easy?  Our  friend  Sir  Arthur 
has  an  excellent  stable;  at  least,  there  is  more  than  one 
mount  for  men  of  our  weight.  I  suspect  Mark  Lyle  will 
not  join  us ;  but  we  '11  arrange  a  match,  —  a  sort  of  home 
steeple-chase." 

'^  I  'd  like  it  well,"  broke  in  Tony,  "but  I  have  no  horses 
of  my  own,  and  I  '11  not  ride  Sir  Arthur's." 

"This  same  independence  of  ours  has  a  something  about 
it  that  won't  let  us  seem  very  amiable,  Mr.  Maitland,"  said 
the  old  lady,  smiling. 

"Pardon  me,  madam;  it  has  an  especial  attraction  for 
me.     1  have  all  my  life  long  been  a  disciple  of  that  school : 


iiii 


AT  THE   COTTAGE.  163 

but  I  must  say  that  in  the  present  case  it  is  not  applicable. 
I  have  been  for  the  last  couple  of  weeks  a  guest  at  Lyle 
Abbey ;  and  if  I  were  asked  whose  name  came  most  often 
uppermost,  and  always  in  terms  of  praise,  1  should  say  — 
your  son's." 

"  "  I  have  met  with  great  kindness  from  Sir  Arthur  and  his 
family,"  said  Tony,  half  sternly,  half  sorrowfully.  "I  am 
not  likely  ever  to  forget  it." 

"You  have  not  seen  them  since  your  return,  I  think?'' 
said  Maitland,  carelessly. 

"No,  sir,"  broke  in  the  old  lady;  ''my  son  has  been  so 
full  of  his  travels,  and  all  the  great  people  he  met,  that  we 
have  not  got  through  more  than  half  of  his  adventures. 
Indeed,  when  you  came  up  he  was  just  telling  me  of  an 
audience  he  had  with  a  Cabinet  Minister  —  " 

*'Pooh,  pooh,  mother!  Don't  bore  Mr.  Maitland  with 
these  personal  details." 

"I  know  it  is  the  privilege  of  friendship  to  listen  to 
these,"  said  Maitland,  "and  I  am  sincerely  sorry  that  I 
have  not  such  a  claim." 

"Well,  sir,  you  ought  to  have  that  claim,  were  it  only  in 
consideration  of  your  own  kind  offer  to  Tony." 

"Oh,  pray,  madam,  do  not  speak  of  it,"  said  Maitland, 
with  something  nearer  confusion  than  so  self-possessed  a 
gentleman  was  likely  to  exhibit.  "When  I  spoke  of  such  a 
project,  I  was  in  utter  ignorance  that  Mr.  Butler  was  as 
much  a  man  of  the  world  as  myself,  and  far  and  away 
beyond  the  reach  of  any  guidance  of  mine." 

"What,  then,  were  your  intentions  regarding  me?  "  asked 
Tony,  in  some  curiosity. 

"I  entreat  of  you,  madam,"  said  Maitland,  eagerly,  "to 
forget  all  that  we  said  on  that  subject." 

"I  cannot  be  so  ungrateful,  sir.  It  is  but  fair  and  just 
that  Tony  should  hear  of  your  generous  plan.  Mr.  Maitland 
thought  he  'd  just  take  you  abroad  —  to  travel  with  him  — 
to  go  about  and  see  the  world.  He  'd  call  you  his 
secretary." 

"His  what!  "  exclaimed  Tony,  with  a  burst  of  laughter. 
"His  what,  mother?" 

"Let  me  try  and  explain  away,  if  I  can,  the  presumption 


164  TONY  BUTLER. 

of  such  a  project.  Not  now,  however,"  said  Maitland,  look- 
ing at  bis  watch,  "for  I  have  ah-eady  overstayed  my  time; 
and  I  have  an  appointment  for  this  evening,  —  without  you 
will  kindly  give  me  your  company  for  half  a  mile  up  the 
road,  and  we  can  talk  the  matter  over  together." 

Tony  looked  hesitatingly  for  a  moment  at  his  mother; 
but  she  said,  "To  be  sure,  Tony.  I  '11  give  Mr.  Maitland 
a  loan  of  you  for  half  an  hour.  Go  with  him,  by  all 
means." 

AVith  all  that  courtesy  of  which  he  was  a  master,  Maitland 
thanked  her  for  the  sacrifice  she  was  making,  and  took  his 
leave. 

"You  have  no  objection  to  walk  fast,  I  hope,"  said  Mait- 
land; "for  I  find  I  am  a  little  behind  my  time." 

Tony  assented  with  a  nod,  and  they  stepped  out  briskly; 
the  device  of  the  speed  being  merely  assumed  to  give  Mait- 
land an  opportunity  of  seeing  a  little  more  of  his  companion 
before  entering  upon  any  serious  converse.  Tony,  however, 
was  as  impenetrable  in  his  simplicity  as  some  others  are  in 
their  depth ;  and  after  two  or  thi-ee  attempts  to  draw  him  on 
to  talk  of  commonplaces,  Maitland  said  abruptly:  "You 
must  have  thought  it  a  great  impertinence  on  my  part  to 
make  such  a  proposal  to  your  mother  as  she  has  just  told 
you  of ;  but  the  fact  was,  I  had  no  other  way  of  approaching 
a  very  difficult  subject,  and  opening  a  question  which  to 
her,  certainly,  I  could  not  explain  myself  fully  upon.  I 
heard  a  good  deal  about  you  up  at  the  Abbey,  and  all  that 
I  heard  confirmed  me  in  the  notion  that  you  were  just  the 
man  for  an  enterprise  in  which  I  am  myself  deeply  in- 
terested. However,  as  I  well  knew,  even  if  I  succeeded 
in  inducing  you  to  become  my  comrade,  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  have  a  sort  of  narrative  which  would  conceal  the 
project  from  your  mother,  it  occurred  to  me  to  get  up  this 
sill}^  idea  of  a  secretaryship,  which  I  own  freely  may  have 
offended  you." 

"Not  offended;  it  only  amused  me,"  said  Tony,  good- 
humoredly.  "I  can't  imagine  a  man  less  fitted  for  such  an 
office  than  myself." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Maitland,  "though  I'm 
quite  certain  it  would  be  a  very  unprofitable  use  to  make  of 


AT  THE   COTTAGE.  165 

you.  You  are,  like  myself,  a  man  of  action ;  one  to  execute 
and  do,  and  not  merely  to  note  and  record.  The  fellows 
who  write  history  very  seldom  make  it, — isn't  that 
true?" 

'"I  don't  know.  I  can  only  say  I  don't  think  I  'm  very 
likely  to  do  one  or  the  other." 

"We  shall  see  that.  I  don't  concur  in  the  opinion,  but 
we  shall  see.  It  would  be  rather  a  tedious  process  to 
explain  myself  fully  as  to  my  project,  but  I  '11  give  you 
two  or  three  little  volumes." 

"No,  no;  don't  give  me  anything  to  read;  if  you 
want  me  to  understand  you,  tell  it  out  plainly,  whatever 
it  is." 

"Here  goes,  then,  and  it  is  not  my  fault  if  you  don't  fully 
comprehend  me;  but  mind,  what  I  am  about  to  reveal  to 
you  is  strictly  on  honor,  and  never  to  be  divulged  to  any 
one.  I  have  your  word  for  this  ?  "  They  pressed  hands, 
and  he  continued:  "There  is  a  government  on  the  Continent 
so  undermined  by  secret  treachery  that  it  can  no  longer  rely 
upon  its  own  arms  for  defence,  but  is  driven  to  enlist  in  its 
cause  the  brave  and  adventurous  spirits  of  other  countries, 
—  men  who,  averse  to  ignoble  callings  or  monotonous  labor, 
would  rather  risk  life  than  reduce  it  to  the  mere  condition 
of  daily  drudgery.  To  this  government,  which  in  principle 
has  all  my  sympathies,  I  have  devoted  all  that  I  have  of  for- 
tune, hope,  or  personal  energy.  I  have,  in  a  word,  thrown 
my  whole  future  into  its  cause.  1  have  its  confidence  in 
return ;  and  I  am  enabled  not  only  to  offer  a  high  career  and 
a  noble  sphere  of  action,  but  all  that  the  world  calls  great 
rewards,  to  those  whom  I  may  select  to  join  me  in  its 
defence." 

"Is  it  France?"  asked  Tony;  and  Maitland  had  to  bite 
his  lip  to  repress  a  smile  at  such  a  question. 

"No,  it  is  not  France,"  said  he,  calmly;  "for  France, 
under  any  rule,  I  'd  not  shed  one  drop  of  my  blood." 

"Nor  I,  neither!  "  cried  Tony.  "I  hate  Frenchmen;  my 
father  hated  them,  and  taught  me  to  do  the  same." 

"So  far  from  enlisting  you  to  serve  France,  it  is  more 
than  probable  that  in  the  cause  I  speak  of  you  '11  find  your- 
self arrayed  against  Frenchmen." 


166  TONY  BUTLER. 

"All  right;  I  'd  do  that  with  a  heart  and  a  half;  but  what 
is  the  State?     Is  it  Austria?  —  is  it  Russia?" 

"Neither.  If  you  only  give  me  to  believe  that  you  listen 
favorably  to  my  plau,  you  shall  hear  everything ;  and  I  '11  tell 
you,  besides,  what  I  shall  offer  to  you,  personally,  —  the 
command  of  a  company  in  an  Irish  regiment,  with  the  cer- 
tainty of  rapid  advancement,  and  ample  means  to  supply 
yourself  with  all  that  your  position  requires.  Is  that 
sufficient?" 

"Quite  so,  if  I  like  the  cause  I  'm  to  fight  for." 

"I'll  engage  to  satisfy  you  on  that  head.  You  need  but 
read  the  names  of  those  of  our  own  countrymen  who  adopt 
it,  to  be  convinced  that  it  is  a  high  and  a  holy  cause.  I 
don't  suppose  you  have  studied  very  deeply  that  great  issue 
which  our  century  is  about  to  tr}^,  —  the  cause  of  order  versus 
anarchy,  —  the  right  to  rule  of  the  good,  the  virtuous,  and 
the  enlightened,  against  the  tyranny  of  the  unlettered,  the 
degraded,  and  the  base." 

"I  know  nothing  about  it." 

"Well,  I  '11  tax  your  patience  some  day  to  listen  to  it  all 
from  me ;  for  the  present  what  say  you  to  my  plan  ?  " 

"I  rather  like  it.  If  it  had  only  come  last  week,  I  don't 
think  I  could  have  refused  it." 

"And  why  last  week?  " 

"  Because  I  have  got  a  promise  of  an  appointment  since 
that." 

"  Of  what  nature,  —  a  commission  in  the  army  ?  " 

"No,"  said  he,  shaking  his  head. 

"They  're  not  going  to  make  a  clerk  of  a  fellow  like  you, 
I  trust?" 

"They  'd  be  sorely  disappointed  if  they  did." 

"Well,  what  are  they  going  to  do  with  you?" 

"Oh,  it's  nothing  very  high  and  mighty.  I  am  to  be 
what  they  call  a  Queen's  Messenger." 

"Under  the  Foreign  Office?" 

"Yes." 

"  Not  bad  things  these  appointments,  —  that  is  to  say, 
gentlemen  hold  them,  and  contrive  to  live  on  them.  How 
they  do  so  it 's  not  very  easy  to  say;  but  the  fact  is  there, 
and  not  to  be  questioned." 


AT  THE   COTTAGE.  167 

This  speech,  a  random  shot  as  it  was,  hit  the  mark ;  and 
Maitlaud  saw  that  Tony  winced  under  it,  and  he  went  on. 

"  The  worst  is,  however,  that  these  things  lead  to  nothing. 
If  a  man  takes  to  the  h\w,  he  dreams  of  the  Great  Seal,  or, 
at  least,  of  the  bench.  If  he  be  a  soldier,  he  is  sure  to 
scribble  his  name  with  '  lieutenant-general '  before  it.  One 
always  has  an  eye  to  the  upper  branches,  whatever  be  the 
tree;  but  this  messenger  affair  is  a  mere  bush,  w'hich  does 
not  admit  of  climbing.  Last  of  all,  it  would  never  do  for 
you." 

"And  why  not  do  for  me?  "  asked  Tony,  half  fiercely. 

"Simply  because  you  could  not  reduce  3'ourself  to  the 
mere  level  of  a  piece  of  mechanism,  —  a  thing  wound  up 
at  Downing  Street,  to  go  '  down  '  as  it  reached  Vienna. 
To  you  life  should  present,  with  its  changes  of  fortune, 
its  variety,  its  adventures,  and  its  rewards.  Men  like 
you  confront  dangers,  but  are  alwa^^s  conquered  by  mere 
drudgery.     Am  1  right  ?  " 

"Perhaps  there  is  something  in  that." 

"Don't  fancy  that  I  am  talking  at  hazard;  I  have  myself 
felt  the  very  thing  I  am  telling  you  of;  and  I  could  no  more 
have  begun  life  as  a  Cabinet  postboy,  than  I  could  have 
taken  to  stone-breaking." 

"You  seem  to  forget  that  there  is  a  class  of  people  in  this 
world  whom  a  wise  proverb  declares  are  not  to  be  choosers." 

"There  never  was  a  sillier  adage.  It  assumes  that  be- 
cause a  man  is  poor  he  must  remain  poor.  It  presumes  to 
affirm  that  no  one  can  alter  his  condition.  And  who  are  the 
successful  in  life?  The  men  who  have  energy  to  will  it,  — 
the  felloe's  who  choose  their  place,  and  insist  upon  taking 
it.  Let  me  assure  you,  Butler,  you  are  one  of  these,  if  you 
could  only  throw  off  your  humility  and  believe  it.  Only 
resolve  to  join  us,  and  I  '11  give  you  any  odds  you  like  that 
I  am  a  true  prophet;  at  all  events,  turn  it  over  in  your  mind; 
give  it  a  fair  consideration,  — of  course,  I  mean  your  own 
consideration,  for  it  is  one  of  those  things  a  man  cannot 
consult  his  mother  upon;  and  when  we  meet  again,  which 
will  not  be  for  a  few  da^^s,  as  I  leave  for  a  short  absence 
to-morrow,  you  '11  give  me  your  answer." 

"What  day  do  you  expect  to  be  back  here?'* 


168  TONY  BUTLER. 

"I  hope,  by  Saturday;  indeed,  I  can  safely  say  by 
Saturday." 

"  By  that  time  I  shall  have  made  up  my  mind.  Good- 
bye." 

"The  mind  is  made  up  already,"  muttered  Maitland,  as 
he  moved  away,  —  "I  have  him." 


CHAPTER  XVin. 

ON    THE    ROAD. 

A  GREAT  moralist  and  a  profound  thinker  has  left  it  on  record 
that  there  were  few  pleasanter  sensations  than  those  of  being 
whirled  rapidly  along  a  good  road  at  the  top  speed  of  a  pair 
of  posters.  Whether,  had  he  lived  in  our  age  of  express 
trains,  the  "  rail "  might  not  have  qualified  the  judgment  is 
not  so  sure.  One  thing  is,  however,  certain,  — the  charm  of 
a  brisk  drive  on  a  fine  breezy  morning,  along  a  bold  coast, 
with  a  very  beautiful  woman  for  a  companion,  is  one  that 
belongs  to  all  eras,  independent  of  broad  gauges  and  narrow, 
and  deriving  none  of  its  enjoyment  from  steam  or  science. 

Maitland  was  to  know  this  now  in  all  its  ecstasy,  as  he 
drove  off  from  Lyle  Abbey  with  Mrs.  Trafford.  There  was 
something  of  gala  in  the  equipage,  —  the  four  dappled  grays 
with  pink  roses  at  their  heads,  the  smartly  dressed  ^servants, 
and,  more  than  all,  the  lovely  widow  herself,  most  becomingly 
dressed  in  a  costume  which,  by  favor  of  the  climate,  could 
combine  furs  with  lace,  —  that  forcibly  struck  him  as  resem- 
bling the  accompaniments  of  a  wedding ;  and  he  smiled  at 
the  pleasant  conceit. 

'^  What  is  it  amuses  you,  Mr.  Maitland?  "  said  she,  unable 
to  repress  her  curiosity. 

"  I  am  afraid  to  tell  you,  —  that  is,  I  might  have  told  you 
a  moment  ago,  but  I  can't  now." 

"  Perhaps  I  guess  it?" 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

"  Xo  matter;  let  us  talk  of  something  else.  Isn't  that  a 
very^beautiful  little  bay?  It  was  a  fancy  of  mine  once  to 
build  a  cottage  there.  You  can  see  the  spot  from  here,  to 
the  left  of  those  three  rocks." 


170  TONY  BUTLER. 

''Yes ;  but  there  are  walls  there,  —  ruins,  I  think." 

''  No,  not  exactly  ruins.  They  were  the  outer  walls  of  my 
intended  villa,  which  I  abandoned  after  I  had  begun  it ;  and 
there  they  stand, — accusers  of  a  change  of  mind,  sad  re- 
minders of  other  days  and  their  projects." 

"Were  they  very  pleasant  days  that  you  sigh  over  them, 
or  are  they  sad  reminiscences  ?  " 

"Both  one  and  the  other.  I  thought  it  would  be  such  a 
nice  thing  to  retire  from  the  world  and  all  its  vanities,  and 
live  there  ver^^  secluded  and  forgotten." 

"  And  how  long  ago  was  this?  " 

"  Oh,  very  long  ago,  —  fully  a  year  and  a  half." 

"  Indeed  !  "  cried  he,  with  a  well- feigned  astonishment. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  resuming.  "I  was  very  tired  of  being 
flattered  and  feted,  and  what  people  call  '  spoiled ;  '  for  it  is 
by  no  means  remembered  how  much  amusement  is  afforded 
to  those  who  play  the  part  of  "  spoilers  '  in  the  wilfulness  and 
caprice  they  excite ;  and  so  I  thought,  '  I  '11  show  you  all 
how  ver}'  eas}^  it  is  to  live  without  you.  I  '11  let  you  see  that 
I  can  exist  without  j^our  homage.'  " 

"  And  you  really  fancied  this?  " 

"  You  ask  as  if  you  thought  the  thing  incredible." 

"  Only  difficult,  —  not  impossible." 

"  T  never  intended  total  isolation,  mind.  1  'd  have  had  my 
intimates,  say  two  or  three,  —  certainly  not  more,  —  dear 
friends,  to  come  and  go  and  stay  as  they  pleased." 

"And  do  you  know  how  j^ou 'd  have  passed  your  time, 
or  shall  I  tell  you?  " 

"  Yes.     Let  me  hear  your  version  of  it." 

"  In  talking  incessantly  of  that  very  world  you  had  quitted, 
in  greedily  devouring  all  its  scandals,  and  canvassing  all  its 
sins,  —  criticising,  very  possibly,  its  shortcomings  and  con- 
demning its  frivolities ;  but  still  following  with  a  wistful 
eye  all  its  doings,  and  secretly  longing  to  be  in  the  thick  of 
them." 

"  Oh,  how  wrong  you  are,  how  totally  wrong!  l^ou  know 
very  little  about  him  who  would  have  been  m}^  chief  adviser 
and  Grand  Vizier." 

"  And  who,  pray,  would  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  fill 
that  post?" 


ON  THE   ROAD.  171 

*'  The  son  of  that  old  lady  to  whom  you  devoted  so  many 
mornings, — the  playfellow  of  long  ago,  Tony  Butler." 

''  Indeed,  I  only  made  his  acquaintance  yesterday,  and  it 
would  be  rash  to  speak  on  such  a  short  experience  ;  but  I  may 
be  permitted  to  ask,  has  he  that  store  of  resources  which 
enliven  solitude?  is  he  so  full  of  life's  experiences  that  he 
can  afford  to  retire  from  the  world  and  live  on  the  interest  of 
his  knowledge  of  mankind?" 

"  He  knows  nothing  whatever  of  what  is  called  life, — at 
least  what  Mr.  Maitland  would  call  life.  He  is  the  most 
simple-hearted  young  fellow  in  the  world,  with  the  finest 
nature,  and  the  most  generous." 

"  What  would  I  not  give  for  a  friend  who  would  grow  so 
enthusiastic  about  me  !  " 

''  Are  you  so  sure  you'd  deserve  it?  " 

*'  If  I  did,  there  would  be  no  merit  in  the  praise.  Credit 
means  trust  for  what  one  may  or  may  not  have." 

''  Well,  I  am  speaking  of  Tony  as  I  know  him  ;  and,  true 
to  the  adage,  there  he  is,  coming  down  the  hill.  Pull  up, 
George." 

''  Mr.  Butler's  making  me  a  sign,  ma'am,  not  to  stop  till  I 
reach  the  top  of  the  hill." 

The  moment  after,  the  spanking  team  stood  champing 
their  bits  and  tossing  their  manes  on  the  crest  of  the 
ridge. 

"  Come  here,  Tony,  and  be  scolded  !  "  cried  JMrs.  Trafford  ; 
while  the  young  fellow,  instead  of  approaching  the  carriage, 
busied  himself  about  the  horses. 

"  Wait  a  moment  till  I  let  down  their  heads.  How  could 
you  have  suffered  them  to  come  up  the  long  hill  with  the 
bearing-reins  on,  Alice?"  cried  he. 

"  So,  then,  it  is  I  that  am  to  have  the  scolding,"  said  she, 
in  a  whisper;  then  added  aloud,  "Come  here  and  beg  par- 
don. I  'm  not  sure  you  '11  get  it,  for  your  shameful  desertion 
of  us.  Where  have  you  been,  sir?  and  why  have  not  you 
reported  yourself  on  your  return?" 

Tony  came  up  to  the  side  of  the  carriage  with  an  attempt 
at  swagger  that  only  increased  his  own  confusion,  and  made 
him  blush  deeply.  No  sooner,  however,  had  he  seen  Mait- 
land, of  whose  presence  up  to  that  he  had  been  ignorant, 


172  TONY  BUTLER. 

than  he  grew  pale,  and  bad  to  steady  himself  by  catching 
hold  of  the  door. 

''I  see  you  are  ashamed,"  said  she,  "  but  I  '11  keep  you 
over  for  sentence.  Meanwhile,  let  me  present  you  to  Mr. 
Maitland." 

"  I  know  him,"  said  Tony,  gulping  out  the  words. 

"Yes,"  chimed  in  Maitland,  ''we  made  acquaintance 
yesterday;  and  if  Mr.  Butler  be  but  of  my  mind,  it  will 
not  be  a  mere  passing  knowledge  we  shall  have  of  each 
other." 

"  Get  in,  Tony,  and  come  a  mile  or  two  with  us.  ITou 
know  all  the  short  cuts  in  the  mountains,  and  can  get  back 
easily." 

"There's  the  short  cut  I  mean  to  take  now,"  said  Tony, 
sternly,  as  he  pointed  to  a  path  that  led  down  to  the  sea- 
shore.     "I  am  going  home." 

"  Y"es,  sir,"  resumed  she,  with  a  well-feigned  air  of  sever- 
ity;   "  but  mine  is  a  command." 

"I  have  left  the  service,  —  I  have  taken  my  discharge," 
said  he,  with  a  forced  laugh. 

"At  least,  you  ought  to  quit  with  honor,  — not  as  a  de- 
serter," said  she,  softly  but  sadh\ 

"Perhaps  he  could  not  trust  his  resolution,  if  he  were  to 
see  again  the  old  flag  he  had  served  under,"  said  Maitland. 

"Who  made  you  the  exponent  of  what  I  felt,  sir?"  said 
he,  savagely.  "I  don't  remember  that  in  our  one  single 
conversation  we  touched  on  these  things." 

"  Tony !  *'  cried  Alice,  in  a  low  voice,  full  of  deep  feeling 
and  sorrow,  —  "  Tony  !  " 

"Good-bye,  Alice;  I'm  sorry  to  have  detained  you.  but 
I  thought  —  I  don't  know  what  I  thought.  Remember  me  to 
Bella,  —  good-bye  !  "  He  turned  away  ;  then  suddenly,  as 
if  remembering  himself,  wheeled  round  and  said,  "Good- 
morning,  sir,"  with  a  short  quick  nod  of  his  head.  The 
moment  after  he  had  sprung  over  the  low  wall  at  the  road- 
side, and  was  soon  lost  to  view  in  the  tall  ferns. 

"How  changed  he  is  !  I  declare  I  can  scarcely  recognize 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford.  as  they  resumed  their  journey. 
"  He  used  to  be  the  gentlest,  easiest,  and  softest  of  all 
natures,  —  never  put  out,  never  crossed  by  anything." 


ON  THE   ROAD.  173 

*'  And  so  I  've  no  doubt  you  'd  have  found  him  to-day  if  I 
had  not  been  here." 

*'  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Surely  you  remarked  the  sudden  change  that  came  over 
his  face  when  he  saw  me.  He  thought  you  were  alone. 
At  all  events,  he  never  speculated  on  finding  me  at  your 
side." 

"Indeed!"  said  she,  with  an  air  of  half-offended  pride; 
"and  are  you  reputed  to  be  such  a  very  dangerous  person 
that  to  drive  out  with  you  should  inspire  all  this  terror?  " 

"I  don't  believe  I  am,"  said  Maitland,  laughing;  "but 
perhaps  your  rustic  friend  might  be  pardoned  if  he  thought 
so." 

"How  very  subtle  that  is!  Even  in  your  humility  you 
contrive  to  shoot  a  bolt  at  poor  Tony." 

"  And  why  poor?  Is  he  poor  who  is  so  rich  in  defenders? 
Is  it  a  sign  of  poverty  when  a  man  can  afford  to  dispense 
with  all  the  restraints  that  attach  to  others,  and  say  and  do 
what  he  likes,  with  the  certainty  that  it  will  all  be  submitted 
to?  I  call  that  wealth  unbounded,  — at  least,  it  is  the  one 
prize  that  money  confers ;  and  if  one  can  have  it  without 
the  dross,  I  'd  say.  Give  me  the  privilege  and  keep  the  title- 
deeds." 

"Mr.  Maitland,"  said  she,  gravely,  "Tony  Butler  is 
not  in  the  least  like  what  you  would  represent  him.  In 
my  life  I  never  knew  any  one  so  full  of  consideration  for 
others." 

"Go  on,"  said  he,  laughing.  "It's  only  another  gold- 
mine of  his  you  are  displaying  before  me.  Has  he  any 
other  gifts  or  graces?" 

"He  has  a  store  of  good  qualities,  Mr.  Maitland;  they 
are  not,  perhaps,  very  showy  ones." 

"Like  those  of  some  other  of  our  acquaintance,"  added 
he,  as  if  finishing  her  speech  for  her.  "  My  dear  Mrs. 
Trafford,  I  would  not  disparage  your  early  friend  —  your 
once  playfellow  —  for  the  world.  Indeed,  I  feel,  if  life 
could  be  like  a  half-holiday  from  school,  he  'd  be  an  admi- 
rable companion  to  pass  it  with ;  the  misfortune  is  that 
these  men  must  take  their  places  in  the  common  tourna- 
ment with  the  rest  of  us,   and  then  they  are  not  so  cer- 


174  TONY  BUTLER. 

taiu  of  making  a  distinguished  figure  as  when  seen  in  the 
old  playground  with  bat  and  ball  and  wicket." 

' '  You  mean  that  such  a  man  as  Tony  Butler  will  not  be 
likely  to  make  a  great  career  in  life?" 

His  reply  was  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"And  why  not,  pray?"    asked  she,  defiantly. 

"What  if  you  were  to  ask  Mark  this  question?  Let 
him  give  you  his  impressions  on  this  theme." 

"I  see  what  it  is,"  cried  she,  warmly.  "You  two  fine 
gentlemen  have  conspired  against  this  poor  simple  boy,  — 
for  really,  in  all  dealings  with  the  world,  he  is  a  boy;  and 
you  would  like  us  to  believe  that  if  we  saw  him  under 
other  circumstances  and  with  other  surroundings,  we  should 
be  actually  ashamed  of  him.  Now,  Mr.  Maitland,  I  resent 
this  supposition  at  once,  and  I  tell  you  frankly  I  am  very 
proud  of  his  friendship." 

"  Y"ou  are  pushing  me  to  the  verge  of  a  great  indiscre- 
tion ;  in  fact,  you  have  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  avoid 
it,"  said  he,  seriously.  "  I  must  now  trust  you  with  a 
secret,  or  what  I  meant  to  be  one.  Here  it  is.  Of  course, 
what  I  am  about  to  tell  you  is  strictly  to  go  no  further,  — 
never,  never  to  be  divulged.  It  is  partly  on  this  young 
man's  account  —  chiefly  so  —  that  I  am  in  Ireland.  A 
friend  of  mine — that  same  Caffarelli  of  whom  you  heard 
—  was  commissioned  by  a  very  eccentric  old  Englishman  who 
lives  abroad,  to  learn  if  he  could  hear  some  tidings  of  this 
young  Butler,  —  what  sort  of  person  he  was,  how  brought 
up,  how  educated,  how  disciplined.  The  inquirj^  came  from 
the  desire  of  a  person  very  able  indeed  to  befriend  him 
materially.  The  old  man  I  speak  of  is  the  elder  brother 
of  Butler's  father ;  very  rich  and  very  influential.  This  old 
man,  I  suppose,  repenting  of  some  harshness  or  other  to  his 
brother  in  former  days,  wants  to  see  Tony,  —  wants  to  judge 
of  him  for  himself, — wants,  in  fact,  without  disclosing  the 
relationship  between  them,  to  pronounce  whether  this  young 
fellow  is  one  to  whom  he  could  rightfully  bequeath  a  con- 
siderable fortune,  and  place  before  the  world  as  the  head  of 
an  honored  house ;  but  he  wants  to  do  this  without  exciting 
hopes  or  expectations,  or  risking,  perhaps,  disappointments. 
Now,  I  know  very  well  by  repute  something  of  this  eccen- 


ON  THE   ROAD.  175 

trie  old  man,  whose  loug  life  in  the  diplomatic  service  has 
made  him  fifty  times  more  lenient  to  a  moral  delinquency 
than  to  a  solecism  in  manners,  and  who  could  forgive  the 
one  and  never  the  other.  If  he  were  to  see  your  diamond 
in  the  rough,  he  'd  never  contemplate  the  task  of  polishing, 

—  he  'd  simply  say,  '  This  is  not  what  I  looked  for ;  I  don't 
want  a  gamekeeper,  or  a  boatman,  or  a  horse-breaker.' " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Maitland!" 

''Hear  me  out.  I  am  representing,  and  very  faithfully 
representing,  another ;  he  'd  say  this  more  strongly  too  than 
I  have,  and  he  'd  leave  him  there.  Now,  I  'm  not  very  cer- 
tain that  he  'd  be  wrong ;  permit  me  to  finish.  I  mean  to 
say  that  in  all  that  regards  what  the  old  Minister-plenipoten- 
tiary acknowledges  to  be  life,  Master  Tony  would  not  shine. 
The  solid  qualities  you  dwelt  on  so  favorably  are  like  rough 
carvings ;  they  are  not  meant  for  gilding.  Now,  seeing  the 
deep  interest  you  and  all  your  family  take  in  this  youth, 
and  feeling  as  I  do  a  sincere  regard  for  the  old  lady  his 
mother,  in  whose  society  I.  have  passed  two  or  three  de- 
lightful mornings,  I  conceived  a  sort  of  project  which 
might  possibly  give  the  young  fellow  a  good  chance  of 
success.  I  thought  of  taking  him  abroad,  —  on  the  Con- 
tinent, —  showing  him  something  of  life  and  the  world  in  a 
sphere  in  which  he  had  not  yet  seen  it;  letting  him  see 
for  himself  the  value  men  set  upon  tact  and  address,  and 
making  him  feel  that  these  are  the  common  coinage  daily 
intercourse  requires,  while  higher  qualities  are  title-deeds 
that  the  world  only  calls  for  on  emergencies." 

"But  you  could  never  have  persuaded  him  to  such  a 
position  of  dependence." 

"I'd  have  called  him  my  private  secretary;  I'd  have 
treated  him  as  my  equal." 

"It  was  very  generous;    it  was  nobly  generous." 

"  When  I  thought  I  had  made  him  presentable  anywhere, 

—  and  it  would  not  take  long  to  do  so  —  I'd  have  con- 
trived to  bring  him  under  his  uncle's  notice,  —  as  a  stranger, 
of  course :  if  the  effect  were  favorable,  well  and  good ;  if 
it  proved  a  failure,  there  was  neither  disappointment  nor 
chagrin.  Mrs.  Butler  gave  me  a  half  assent,  and  I  was  on 
the  good  road  with  her  son  till  this  morning,  when  that 
unlucky  meeting  has,  I  suspect,  spoiled  everythina:.*' 


176  TONY  BUTLEK. 

*' But  why  should  it?" 

"  AVhy  should  anything  happen  as  men's  passions  or 
inipulses  decide  it?  Why  should  one  man  be  jealous  of 
the  good  fortune  that  another  man  has  not  won?" 

She  turned  away  her  head  and  was  silent. 

''  I  'd  not  have  told  you  one  word  of  this,  Mrs.  Trafford,  if 
I  had  not  been  so  sore  pressed  that  I  could  n't  afford  to  let 
you,  while  defending  your  friend,  accuse  me  of  want  of  gener- 
osity and  unfairness.  Let  me  own  it  frankly,  —  I  was  piqued 
by  all  your  praises  of  this  young  man ;  they  sounded  so 
like  insidious  criticisms  on  others  less  fortunate  in  your 
favor." 

"As  if  the  great  Mr.  Maitland  could  care  for  any  judg- 
ments of  mine !  "  said  she  ;  and  there  was  in  her  voice  and 
manner  a  strange  blending  of  levity  and  seriousness. 

"  They  are  the  judgments  that  he  cares  most  for  in  all  the 
world,"  said  he,  eagerly.  "  To  have  heard  from  your  lips 
one  half  the  praise,  one  tenth  part  of  the  interest  you  so 
lately  bestowed  on  that  young  man  —  " 

"Where  are  we  going,  George?  What  river  is  this?" 
exclaimed  she,  suddenly. 

"  To  Tilney  Park,  ma'am;  this  is  the  Larne." 

"  But  it 's  the  upper  road,  and  I  told  you  to  take  the  lower 
road,  by  Captain  Graham's." 

"  No,  ma'am;   you  only  said  Tilney." 

"  Is  it  possible?  and  did  n't  you  tell  him,  Mr.  Maitland?" 

"I?  I  knew  nothing  of  the  road.  To  tell  you  the  truth," 
added  he,  in  a  whisper,  "  I  cared  very  little  where  it  led,  so 
long  as  I  sat  at  your  side." 

"  Very  flattering,  indeed  !  Have  we  passed  the  turn  to  the 
lower  road  very  far,  George  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  it's  a  good  five  miles  behind  us,  and  a  bad 
bit  of  road  too,  —  all  fresh  stones." 

"And  you  were  so  anxious  to  call  at  the  cottage?"  said 
she,  addressing  ]\Iaitland,  with  a  smile  of  some  significance. 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind.  I  made  some  sort  of  silly  promise 
to  make  a  visit  as  I  passed.  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  why,  or 
to  gratify  whom." 

"Oh,  cruel  Mr.  Maitland,  false  Mr.  Maitland!  how  can 
you  say  this  ?    But  are  we  to  go  back  ?  —  that  is  the  question ; 


ON  THE   ROAD.  177 

for  I  see  George  is  very  impatient,  and  trying  to  make  the 
horses  the  same." 

*'  Of  course  not.    Go  back  !  it  was  all  the  coachman's  fault, 

—  took  the  wrong  turning,  and  never  discovered  his  blunder 
till  we  were  —  I  don't  know  where." 

''  Tilney,  George,  —  go  on,"  said  she ;  then  turning  to 
Maitland,  '*  and  do  you  imagine  that  the  charming  Sally 
Graham  or  the  fascinating  Rebecca  will  understand  such 
flimsy  excuses  as  these,  or  that  the  sturdy  old  Commodore 
will  put  up  with  them  ?  " 

'^  T  hope  so,  for  their  sakes  at  least;  for  it  will  save  them 
a  world  of  trouble  to  do  so." 

"Ungrateful  as  well  as  perfidious!  You  were  a  great 
favorite  with  the  Grahams.  Beck  told  me,  the  night  before 
they  left  the  Abbey,  that  you  were  the  only  elegant  —  ex- 
quisite she  called  it  —  she  ever  met  that  was  n't  a  fool." 

"  The  praise  was  not  extravagant.  I  don't  feel  my  cheek 
growing  hot  under  it." 

"And  Sally  said  that  if  she  had  not  seen  with  her  own 
eyes,  she  'd  never  have  believed  that  a  man  with  such  a 
diamond  ring,  and  such  wonderful  pendants  to  his  watch, 
could  hook  an  eight-pound  salmon,  and  bring  him  to 
land." 

"That  indeed  touches  me,"  said  he,  laying  his  hand  over 
his  heart. 

"  And  old  Graham  himself  declared  to  my  father  that  if  one 
of  his  girls  had  a  fancy  that  way,  though  you  were  n't  exactly 
his  st3^le  of  man,  nor  precisely  what  he'd  choose  —  " 

"  Do  spare  me.     I  beseech  you,  have  some  pity  on  me." 

"That  he'd  not  set  himself  against  it;  and  that,  in  fact, 
with  a  good  certificate  as  to  character,  and  the  approved 
guarantee  of  respectable  people,  who  had  known  you  some 
years  —  " 

"  I  implore  you  to  stop." 

"  Of  course  I'll  stop  when  you  tell  me  the  theme  is  one  too 
delicate  to  follow  up  ;  but,  like  all  the  world,  you  let  one  run 
into  every  sort  of  indiscretion,  and  only  cry  Halt  when  it  is  too 
late  to  retire.     The  Grahams,  however,  are  excellent  people, 

—  old  G.  G.,  as  they  call  him,  a  distinguished  officer.     He 
cut  out  somebody  or  something  from  under  the  guns  of  a 

12 


178  TONY  BUTLER. 

Spauisli  fort,  and  the  girls  have  refused  —  let  me  see  whom 
they  have  not  refused  ;  but  I  '11  make  them  tell  you,  for  we  'II 
certainly  call  there  ou  our  way  back." 

The  malicious  drollery  with  which  she  poured  out  all  this 
had  heightened  her  color  and  given  increased  brilliancy  to 
her  eyes.  Instead  of  the  languid  delicacy  which  usually 
marked  her  features,  they  shone  now  with  animation  and 
excitement,  and  became  in  consequence  far  more  beauti- 
ful. So  striking  was  the  change  that  Maitland  paid  little 
attention  to  the  words,  while  he  gazed  with  rapture  at  the 
speaker. 

It  must  have  been  a  very  palpable  admiration  he  bestowed, 
for  she  drew  down  her  veil  with  an  impatient  jerk  of  the 
hand,  and  said,  "Well,  sir,  doesn't  this  arrangement  suit 
you,  or  would  you  rather  make  your  visit  to  Port-Graham 
alone?  " 

"I  almost  think  I  would,"  said  he,  laughing.  "I  suspect 
it  would  be  safer." 

"  Oh,  now  that  I  know  your  intentions,  —  that  you  have 
made  me  your  confidante, —  you  '11  see  that  I  can  be  a  marvel 
of  discretion." 

'^Put  up  your  veil  again,  and  you  may  be  as  mallgne  as 
you  please." 

"There!  yonder  is  Tiluey,"  said  she,  hastily,  "where  you 
see  those  fine  trees.     Are  the  horses  distressed,  George?" 

"Well,  ma'am,  they  've  had  enough  of  it." 

"I  mean,  are  they  too  tired  to  go  round  by  the  river-side 
and  the  old  gate  ?  " 

"It's  a  good  two  miles  round,  ma'am." 

"Oh,  I  know  what  that  means,"  said  she,  in  a  whisper. 
"If  there  should  be  anything  amiss  for  the  next  three 
months,  it  will  be  that  cruel  day's  work  down  at  Tilney 
will  be  charged  with  it.  Go  in  by  the  new  lodge,"  added 
she,  aloud;  "and  as  they  have  innumerable  carriages  here, 
Mr.  Maitland,  I  '11  take  you  a  drive  over  there  to-morrow. 
It 's  a  very  nice  thing,  is  n't  it,  to  be  as  rich  as  old  Mrs. 
Maxwell,  and  to  be  always  playing  the  part  of  '  Good  Fairy, ' 
giving  splendid  banquets,  delicious  little  country-parties  to 
all  the  world;  offering  horses  to  ride,  boats  to  sail  in? 
What  are  you  looking  at  so  fixedly?" 


ON  THE  ROAD.  179 

"I  think  I  recognize  a  conveyance  I  once  had  the  hap- 
piness to  travel  in.  Is  n't  that  the  Graham  equipage 
before  us  ?  " 

"I  declare,  it  is!"  cried  she,  joyfully.  "Oh,  lucky  Mr. 
Maitland;  they  are  going  to  Tilney." 

As  she  spoke,  George,  indignant  at  being  dusted  by  a 
shambling  old  mare  with  long  fetlocks,  gathered  up  his  team 
in  hand,  and  sent  them  "spinning"  past  the  lumbering 
jaunting-car,  giving  the  Grahams  only  time  to  recognize  the 
carriage  and  its  two  occupants. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

Tony's  troubles. 

When  Tony  Butler  met  Mrs.  Trafford's  carriage,  he  was  on 
his  road,  by  a  cross  path,  to  the  back  entrance  of  Lyle 
Abbey.  It  was  not  his  intention  to  pay  a  visit  there  at  that 
moment,  though  he  was  resolved  to  do  so  later.  His  present 
errand  was  to  convey  a  letter  he  had  written  to  Maitland, 
accepting  the  proposal  of  the  day  before. 

He  had  not  closed  his  eyes  all  night  thinking  of  it.  There 
was  a  captivation  in  its  promise  of  adventure  that  he  felt  to 
be  irresistible.  He  knew  too  well  the  defects  of  his  nature 
and  of  his  intelligence  not  to  be  aware  that,  in  any  of  the 
ordinary  and  recognized  paths  in  life,  he  must  see  himself 
overtaken  and  left  behind  by  almost  all.  What  were  called 
the  learned  professions  were  strictly  debarred  to  him.  Had 
he  even  the  means  for  the  study  he  would  not  have  the  qual- 
ities to  pursue  them. 

He  did  not  feel  that  he  could  take  willingly  to  a  trade; 
as  little  could  he  be  a  clerk.  To  be  sure,  he  had  obtained 
this  appointment  as  messenger,  but  how  disparagingly 
Maitland  had  spoken  of  it!  He  said,  it  is  true  they 
"weren't  bad  things,"  that  "gentlemen  somehow  or  other 
managed  to  live  on  them ;  "  but  he  hinted  that  these  were 
gentlemen  whose  knowledge  of  life  had  taught  them  a 
variety  of  little  accomplishments,  —  such  as  whist,  billiards, 
and  ecarte^  —  which  form  the  traffic  of  societ}^,  and  a  very 
profitable  traffic  too,  to  him  who  knows  a  little  more  of 
them  than  his  neighbors.  Worst  of  all,  it  was  a  career, 
Maitland  said,  that  led  to  nothing.  You  can  become  an 
"old  messenger,"  if  you  live  long  enough,  but  nothing  more; 
and  he  pictured  the  life  of  a  traveller  who  had  lost  every 
interest   in    the  road  he   journeyed,  —  who,   in   fact,  only 


TONY'S  TROUBLES.  '  181 

thought  of  it  with  reference  to  the  time  it  occupied,  —  as  one 
of  the  dreariest  of  all  imaginable  things.  "This  monot- 
ony," added  he,  "will  do  for  the  fellow  who  has  seen  every- 
thing and  done  everything ;  not  for  the  fresh  spirit  of  youth, 
eager  to  taste,  to  learn,  and  to  enjoy.  A  man  of  your 
stamp  ought  to  have  a  wider  and  better  field,  —  a  sphere 
wherein  his  very  vitality  will  have  fair  play.  Try  it;  follow 
it  if  you  can,  Butler,"  said  he;  "but  I'm  much  mistaken 
in  you,  if  you  '11  be  satisfied  to  sit  down  with  a  station  that 
only  makes  you  a  penny-postman  magnified."  Very  few 
of  us  have  courage  to  bear  such  a  test  as  this,  —  to  hear 
the  line  we  are  about  to  take,  the  service  we  are  about  to 
enter,  the  colony  we  are  about  to  sail  for,  disparaged,  un- 
moved. The  unknown  has  always  enough  of  terror  about 
it  without  the  dark  forebodings  of  an  evil  prophet. 

"I  like  Maitland's  project  better,"  said  Tony,  after  a  long 
night's  refiection.  "At  all  events,  it  's  the  sort  of  thing  to 
suit  me.  If  I  should  come  to  grief,  it  will  be  a  sad  day 
for  poor  mother;  but  the  same  might  happen  to  me  when 
carrying  a  despatch-bag.  I  think  he  ought  to  have  been 
more  explicit,  and  let  me  hear  for  whom  I  am  to  fight, 
though,  perhaps,  it  does  n't  much  signify.  I  could  fight  for 
any  one  but  Yankees!  I  think  I  '11  say  '  done.'  This  Mait- 
land  is  a  great  '  Don ; '  has,  apparently,  fortune  and  station. 
It  can't  be  a  mistake  to  sail  in  the  same  boat  with  him, 
I'll  certainly  say  '  done.'"  With  this  resolve  he  jumped 
out  of  bed,  and  wrote  the  following  brief  note:  — 

"  BuRNSiDE,  Tuesday  morning. 
"  Dear  Sir,  —  I  Ml  not  take  the  three  days  you  gave  me  to  consider 
your  offer ;  I  accept  it  at  once.  —  Yours  truly, 

"  ToxY  Butler. 
"Norman  Maitland,  Esq., 
Lyle  Abbey." 

"I'll  have  to  write  to  Skeffy,"  said  he  to  himself,  "and 
say,  you  may  tell  my  noble  patron  that  I  don't  want  the 
messengership,  and  that  when  next  I  call  at  the  Office  I  '11 
kick  Willis  for  nothing.  I  don't  suppose  that  this  is  the 
formal  way  of  resigning;  but  I  take  it  they  '11  not  be  sorry 
to  be  quit  of  me,  and  it  will  spare  the  two  old  coves  in 


182  TONY  BUTLER. 

white  cravats  all  the  trouble  of  having  me  plucked  at  the 
examination.  Poor  Skeffy  won't  be  pleased,  though;  he 
was  to  have  '  coached  me  '  in  foreign  tongues  and  the  Rule 
of  Three.  Well,  I  'm  glad  I  'm  in  for  a  line  of  life  where 
nobody  asks  about  Colenso's  Arithmetic,  nor  has  so  much 
as  heard  of  Ollendorf's  Method.  Oh  dear!  how  much  hap- 
pier the  world  must  have  been  when  people  were  n't  so 
confoundedly  well  informed !  —  so  awfully  brimful  of  all 
knowledge  as  they  now  are!  In  those  pleasant  days, 
instead  of  being  a  black  sheep,  I  'd  have  been  pretty  much 
like  the  rest  of  the  flock." 

The  speculations  on  this  topic  —  this  golden  age  of  igno- 
rance and  bliss  —  occupied  him  all  the  way,  as  he  walked 
over  the  hills  to  leave  his  letter  at  the  gate-lodge  for  Mr. 
Maitlaud. 

Resisting  all  the  lodge-keeper's  inducements  to  talk,  —  for 
he  was  an  old  friend  of  Tony's,  and  wanted  much  to  know 
where  he  had  been  and  what  doing  of  late,  and  why  he 
was  n't  up  at  the  Abbey  every  day  as  of  yore,  —  Tony 
refused  to  hear  of  all  the  sad  consequences  that  had  followed 
on  his  absence;  how  the  "  two  three-year-olds  had  gone  back 
in  their  training;"  how  "Piper  wouldn't  let  a  saddle  be 
put  on  his  back ;  "  how  the  carp  were  all  dying  in  the  new 
pond,  nobody  knew  why,  —  there  was  even  something  gone 
wrong  with  the  sun-dial  over  the  stable,  as  though  the  sun 
himself  had  taken  his  departure  in  dudgeon,  and  would  n't 
look  straight  on  the  spot  since.  These  were,  with  many 
more,  shouted  after  him  as  he  turned  away,  while  he, 
laughing,  called  out,  "It  will  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two. 
Mat.     I  '11  see  to  everything  soon." 

"That  I  '11  not,"  muttered  he  to  himself  when  alone. 
"The  smart  hussar  —  the  brave  Captain  —  may  tr}^  his  hand 
now.  I  'd  like  to  see  him  on  Piper.  I  only  wish  that  he 
may  mount  him  with  the  saddle  tightly  girthed;  and  if  he 
does  n't  cut  a  somerset  over  his  head,  my  name  is  n't  Tony! 
Let  us  see,  too,  what  he  '11  do  with  those  young  dogs; 
they  're  wild  enough  by  this  time!  I  take  it  he  's  too  great 
a  swell  to  know  anything  about  gardening  or  grafting ;  so 
much  the  worse  for  my  Lady's  flower-pot!  There  's  one 
thing  I  'd  like  to  be  able  to  do  every  morning  of  my  life," 


TONY'S  TROUBLES.  183 

thought  he,  in  sadder  mood,  — "just  to  give  Alice's  chest- 
nut mare  one  canter,  to  make  her  neck  flexible  and  her  mouth 
light,  and  to  throw  her  back  on  her  haunches.  And  then, 
if  I  could  only  see  Alice  on  her!  just  to  see  her  as  she  bends 
down  over  the  mane  and  pats  the  mare's  shoulder  to  coax 
her  not  to  buck-leap!  There  never  was  a  picture  that 
equalled  it!  the  mare  snorting  and  with  eyes  flashing,  and 
Alice  all  the  while  caressing  her,  and  saying,  '  How  silly 
you  are,  Maida!  come,  now,  do  be  gentle!  '  " 

These  thoughts  set  others  in  motion,  —  the  happy,  happy 
days  of  long  ago;  the  wild,  half-reckless  gallops  over  the 
fern-clad  hills  in  the  clear  bright  days  of  winter;  or  the 
still  more  delightful  saunterings  of  a  summer's  eve  on  the 
sea-shore !  —  none  of  them  —  not  one  —  ever  to  come  back 
again.  It  was  just  as  his  reveries  had  reached  so  far  that 
he  caught  sight  of  the  four  dappled  grays  —  they  were 
Alice's  own  —  swinging  smoothly  along  in  that  long  easy 
stride  by  which  thoroughbreds  persuade  you  that  work  is 
no  distress  to  them.  It  was  only  as  they  breasted  the  hill 
that  he  saw  that  the  bearing-reins  were  not  let  down, — a 
violation  of  a  precept  on  which  he  was  inexorable;  and  he 
hastened,  with  all  the  speed  he  could,  to  catch  them  ere  they 
gained  the  crest  of  the  ridge. 

To  say  the  truth,  Tony  was  somewhat  ashamed  of  himself 
for  his  long  absence  from  the  Abbey.  If  it  was  not  ingrat- 
itude, it  had  a  look  of  it.  They  knew  nothing  of  what  had 
passed  between  Mark  and  himself,  and  could  only  pronounce 
upon  his  conduct  as  fickleness,  or  worse;  and  he  was  glad  of 
an  opportunity  to  meet  them  less  formally  than  by  a  regular 
morning  visit.  Either  Alice  and  her  sister,  or  Alice  alone, 
were  certain  to  be  in  the  carriage;  for  Lady  Lyle  was  too 
timid  to  trust  herself  with  those  "grays;"  and  so  he 
bounded  forward,  his  heart  full  of  expectancy,  and  burning 
once  more  to  hear  that  voice  whose  very  chidings  were  as 
music  to  him. 

He  was  close  to  the  carriage  before  he  saw  Maitland,  —  in- 
deed, the  sight  of  Alice,  as  he  drew  near,  had  so  entranced 
him  that  he  saw  nothing  else;  but  when  his  eyes  did  fall  on 
her  companion,  a  pang  shot  through  him  as  though  he  had 
been  stabbed.     In  the  raging  jealousy  of  the  moment  every- 


184  TONY  BUTLER. 

thing  was  forgotten  but  his  passion,  —  his  hatred  of  that 
man.  He  'd  have  given  his  right  hand  to  be  able  to  hurl  at 
him  a  mortal  defiance,  to  have  dared  him  to  the  death. 
Indeed,  so  far  as  the  insolence  of  his  stare  could  convey  his 
meaning,  it  declared  an  open  war  between  them.  Nor  did 
Maitland's  attitude  assuage  this  anger;  he  lay  back  with  a 
cool  assumption  of  superiority  —  an  air  of  triumphant  satis- 
faction —  that  seemed  to  say,  Each  of  us  is  in  the  place  that 
befits  him. 

So  overcome  was  he  by  passion,  that  even  Alice's  invita- 
tion to  get  into  the  carriage  sounded  like  an  outrage  to  his 
ears.  It  was  bitter  enough  to  cast  him  off  without  making 
him  witness  the  success  of  another.  Maitland's  daring  to 
apologize  for  him  —  to  explain  away  why  he  had  or  had  not 
done  this,  that,  or  t'  other  —  was  more  than  his  endurance 
could  brook ;  and  as  he  hurried  away  from  the  spot,  dashing 
recklessly  down  cliff  and  crag,  and  sprang  from  rock  to  rock 
without  a  thought  of  the  peril,  he  almost  accused  himself  of 
cowardice  and  cold-bloodedness  for  not  having  insulted  him 
on  the  instant,  and  by  some  open  outrage  forced  upon  him 
a  quarrel  from  which  there  could  be  no  retreating.  "If  I  'd 
insulted  him  before  her,"  cried  he,  "he  never  could  have 
evaded  me  by  calling  me  an  angry  boy." 

"I'll  have  no  companionship  with  him,  at  all  events," 
said  he,  suddenly  checking  himself  in  his  speed;  "he  shall 
neither  be  leader  nor  comrade  of  mine.  I  '11  get  my  letter 
back  before  it  reach  him."  With  this  resolve  he  turned  his 
steps  back  again  to  the  Abbey.  Although  he  knew  well  that 
he  must  reach  the  lodge  before  they  could  return  from  their 
drive,  he  hurried  along  as  though  his  life  depended  on  it. 
The  keeper  was  out,  but  Tony  dashed  into  the  lodge,  and 
found,  as  he  expected,  the  letter  on  the  chimney;  he  tore  it 
into  fragments,  and  turned  away. 

The  day  was  already  drawing  to  a  close  as  he  descended 
the  little  path  to  the  Burnside,  and  saw  his  mother  awaiting 
him  in  the  porch.  As  he  came  nearer,  he  perceived  that 
she  held  up  a  letter  in  her  hand.  "  Something  important, 
Tony  dear,"  cried  she.  "It  is  printed  at  top,  '  On  H.  M.'s 
Service, '  and  marked  '  Immediate  *  underneath.  I  have 
been  very  impatient  all  the  day  for  your  return." 


TONY'S  TROUBLES.  185 

Although  Tony's  mood  at  the  moment  did  not  dispose 
him  to  be  on  the  very  best  terms  with  the  world  at  large, 
nor  even  with  himself,  he  felt  a  strange  sort  of  vainglorious 
glow  through  him  at  being  addressed  on  a  great  square- 
shaped  envelope,  "On  Her  Majesty's  Service,"  and  with  a 
huge  seal,  the  royal  arms  affixed.  It  imparted  a  sense  of 
self-importance  that  was  very  welcome  at  such  a  moment. 
It  was  a  spoonful  of  brandy  to  a  man  not  far  from  fainting. 

With  all  this,  he  did  n't  like  his  mother  to  see  how  much 
this  gratified  or  interested  him ;  and  he  tossed  the  letter  to 
one  side,  and  said,  "I  hope  the  dinner  isn't  far  off;  I'm 
very  hungry." 

*'It  will  be  on  the  table  in  a  few  minutes,  Tony;  but  let 
us  hear  what  Her  Majesty  wants  with  you." 

"It 's  nothing  that  won't  keep  till  I  have  eaten  my  din- 
ner, mother;  at  all  events,  I  don't  mean  to  inquire." 

"I  suppose  I  may  break  the  seal  myself,  then,"  said  she, 
in  a  half-pique. 

"If  you  like,  —  if  you  have  any  curiosity  in  the  matter." 

"That  I  have,"  said  she,  tearing  open  the  envelope. 
"Why,  it 's  nothing,  after  all,  Tony.  It 's  not  from  Her 
Majesty  at  all.     It  begins  '  Dear  Butler. '  " 

"It's  from  Skeffy,"  cried  he,  taking  it  from  her  hands, 
"and  is  far  more  interesting  to  me  than  if  it  came  from  the 
Premier." 

Mrs.  Butler  sat  down,  disappointed  and  sad.  It  was  a 
reminiscence  of  long  ago,  that  formally  shaped  document, 
with  its  big  seal,  reminding  her  of  days  when  the  Colonel 
—  her  Colonel  —  used  to  receive  despatches  from  the  War 
Office,  —  grave  documents  of  which  he  seldom  spoke,  but 
whose  importance  she  could  read  in  the  thoughtful  lines  of 
his  face,  and  which  always  impressed  her  with  his  conse- 
quence. "Ah,  dear!"  sighed  she,  drearily,  "who  would 
have  thought  it  ?  " 

So  is  it  very  often  in  this  same  world  of  ours,  that  the 
outsides  of  things  are  only  solemn  cheats.  The  orderly, 
who  terrifies  the  village  as  he  dashes  past  at  speed,  is  but 
the  bearer  of  an  invitation  to  dine.  The  ambassador's  bag 
is  filled  not  with  protocols  and  treaties,  but  with  fish-sauce 
or  pickled  walnuts;  the  little  sack  —  marked  "most  impor- 


186  TONY  BUTLER. 

tant  "  —  being  choke-full  of  Russian  cigarettes.  Even  lawn 
and  lawyers'  wigs  are  occasionally  the  external  coverings 
to  qualities  that  fall  short  of  absolute  wisdom;  so  that 
though  Mrs.  Butler  exclaimed,  "Who  would  have  thought 
it?"  one  more  conversant  with  life  would  have  felt  less 
surprise  and  less  disappointment. 

A  laugh  from  Tony  —  almost  a  hearty  laugh  —  startled 
her  from  her  musings.  "What  is  it,  Tony  dear?"  asked 
she,  —  "what  is  it  that  amuses  you?  " 

"I'll  read  it  all  for  you,  mother.  It's  from  Skeffy,  and 
you  'd  think  you  heard  him  talking,  it 's  so  like  him. 

"  '  F.  O.,  Sunday  morning. 

"'Dear  Butler,  — What  a  fright  you  have  given  us  all, 
old  fellow,  to  have  levanted  so  suddenly,  leaving  your  traps 
with  the  waiter,  as  we  first  thought,  but,  as  we  afterwards 
discovered,  exchanging  them  with  one  Ror}^  Quin,  who, 
apparently  sorry  for  his  bargain,  came  for  three  successive 
mornings  to  the  hotel  to  find  out  your  present  whereabouts.' 

"Do  you  understand  him,  mother?  "  asked  Tony  at  this. 

"Partly,  — go  on." 

He  resumed:  "  '  Rory,  however,  would  seem  to  have  a 
private  scrape  of  his  own  to  occupy  him  now,  for  I  found 
to-day  that  a  policeman  was  waiting  all  the  morning  to 
arrest  him,  of  which  he  seems  to  have  had  timely  notice, 
for  he  did  not  appear,  and  "R.  960"  says,  with  much  so- 
lemnity, "he  won't  come  no  more."  '  " 

"What  does  that  mean,  Tony?" 

"I  can  make  nothing  of  it.  I  hope  and  trust  that  I  am 
not  the  cause  of  the  poor  fellow's  troubles.  I  '11  write  about 
this  at  once.  '  More  of  all  this,  however,  when  we  meet, 
which,  1  rejoice  to  say,  will  be  soon.  I  have  got  fourteen 
days'  leave,  and  am  going  over  to  your  immediate  neigh- 
borhood, to  visit  an  aunt,  or  a  cousin,  or  a  grandmother,  — 
if  she  likes,  —  a  certain  Mrs.  Maxwell  of  Tilney,  who  has 
lots  of  cash,  and  no  one  to  leave  it  to,  —  five  thousand 
a  year  in  estate;  I  don't  know  what  in  the  Threes;  and  is, 
they  tell  me,  weighing  all  her  relatives,  real  or  imaginary, 
in  the  balance  of  her  esteem,  to  decide  who  is  to  be  the  Lord 
of  Tilney,  and  which  of  us  would  most  worthily  represent 


TONY'S  TROUBLES.  187 

her  name  and  house.  Preaching  for  a  call  is  nothing  to 
this ;  and  a  C.  S.  examination  is  cakes  and  gingerbread  to 
it.  Just  fancy  a  grand  competitive  dinner  of  both  sexes, 
and  the  old  lady  watching  who  ate  of  her  favorite  dish,  or 
who  passed  the  decanter  she  "affectioned."  Imagine  your- 
self talking,  moving,  sneezing,  smiling,  or  blowing  your 
nose,  with  five  thousand  a  year  on  the  issue.  Picture  to 
your  mind  the  tortures  of  a  scrutiny  that  may  take  in  any- 
thiug,  from  your  complexion  to  your  character,  and  which, 
though  satisfied  with  your  morals,  might  discover  "some- 
thiug  unpleasing  about  your  mouth." 

"  '  Worst  news  of  all,  I  hear  that  the  great  Norman  Mait- 
land  is  somewhere  in  your  vicinity,  and,  of  course,  will  be 
invited  wherever  anything  is  going  on.  If  he  cares  to  do  it, 
I  suppose  he  '11  cut  us  all  out,  and  that  the  old  lady  would 
rather  fancy  she  made  a  graceful  exit  from  life  if  this  illus- 
trious swell  were  to  play  chief  mourner  to  her.  By  the  way, 
do  you  know  the  man  I  'm  talking  of?  He  's  a  monstrous 
clever  fellow,  and  a  great  mystery  to  boot.  I  know  him 
very  slightly;  indeed,  so  slightly  that  I'm  not  sure  he 
knows  me. 

"  '  As  it  would  be  invaluable  to  me  to  have  a  word  of 
counsel  from  you,  knowing  nothing,  or  next  to  nothing,  of 
my  dear  relative,  I  mean  to  start  directly  for  you  at  once, 
and  have  one  day  with  you  before  I  go  on  to  Tilney.  Will 
this  bore  you,  or  inconvenience  you?  Is  your  house  full? 
Most  houses  are  at  this  time  o'  year.'  " 

At  this  Tony  laid  down  the  letter  and  laughed  immoder- 
ately; not  so,  however,  his  mother.  She  turned  her  head 
away,  and  sat,  with  her  hands  closely  locked,  in  silence. 

"Isn't  it  good, — isn't  it  downright  droll,  mother,  to 
ask  if  our  house  be  so  full  of  guests  we  have  no  room  for 
another?  I  declare,  though  it  has  a  sore  side  to  it,  the 
question  overcomes  me  with  its  absurdity." 

"That 's  not  the  way  I  'm  looking  at  it,  Tony,"  said  she, 
sadly. 

"But  there  's  no  other  way  to  look  at  it.  If  one  can't 
take  that  view  of  it,  one  would  —  "  He  stopped  suddenly, 
for  he  saw  the  old  lady  lift  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes, 
and  hold  it  there.     "But  you  are  right,  mother,"  said  he, 


188  TONY  BUTLER. 

quickly.  "To  bear  it  well,  one  need  n't  laugh  at  it.  At  all 
events,  what  answer  are  we  to  make  him  ?  "    " 

"Finish  the  letter  first." 

"  Ah,  this  is  all  about  putting  him  up  —  anywhere  —  in  a 
dressing-room  or  a  closet.  '  At  Carlscourt,  last  year,  they 
had  nothing  to  give  me  but  a  bathroom.  They  used  to 
quiz  me  about  sleeping  in  "marble  halls,"  for  I  lay  in  the 
bath.'" 

"He  seems  a  good-tempered  creature,"  said  the  old  lady, 
who  could  not  repress  a  laugh  this  time. 

"The  best  in  the  world;  and  such  spirits!  I  wish  you 
saw  him  do  the  back-somersault  over  a  chair,  or  the  frog's 
leap  across  a  table.  For  all  that,  mother,"  said  he,  with 
a  change  of  tone,  "he's  a  perfect  gentleman;  and  though 
he  's  very  short,  — only  so  high,  — he  looks  a  gentleman, 
too." 

"I  am  not  likely  to  forget  all  his  kindness  to  you,  Tony," 
said  she,  feelingly.  "If  we  could  only  receive  him  suit- 
ably, I  'd  be  happy  and  proud  to  do  it;  as  it  is,  however, 
the  man,  being  a  gentleman,  will  put  up  all  the  better  with 
our  humble  entertainment:  so  just  tell  him  to  come,  Tony; 
but  tell  him,  also,  what  he  's  coming  to.  His  room  will  be 
pretty  much  like  the  bathroom,  and  the  company  he  '11 
meet  afterwards  very  unlike  what  he  saw  at  the  fine  house." 

"He  '11  take  all  in  good  part,  or  I'm  much  mistaken  in 
him.     So  here  goes  for  the  answer :  — 

"'Dear  Skeff,  —  We  live  in  a  cottage  with  five  rooms.  We 
have  one  maidservant,  and  we  dine  at  two.  If  you  have  courage 
to  face  all  this,  you  '11  have  the  heartiest  of  welcomes  from  my 
mother  and  your  sincere  friend, 

" '  ToxY  Butler. 

" '  The  mail  will  drop  you  at  Coleraine,  and  I  '11  be  on  the  look-out 
for  you  every  morning  from  this  forward.' 

"Won't  that  do,  mother?"  asked  he. 

"I  think  you  might  have  done  it  better;  but  I  suppose 
you  young  folk  understand  each  other  best  in  your  own 
fashion,  so  let  it  be." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    minister's    VISIT. 

While  Tony  was  absent  that  morning  from  home,  Mrs. 
Butler  had  a  visit  from  Dr.  Stewart;  he  came  over,  he  said, 
to  see  Tony,  and  ask  the  news  of  what  he  had  done  in  Eng- 
land. "I  hope,  ma'am,"  said  he, — and  there  was  some- 
thing di'y  and  reserved  in  his  manner,  —  "I  hope,  ma'am, 
your  son  has  brought  you  good  tidings  of  his  late  journey. 
A  big  city  is  a  big  temptation,  and  we  dinna  want  tempta- 
tions in  this  world  of  ours." 

"I  know  it  well,  doctor,"  said  she,  with  a  sigh;  "and  if  it 
had  been  any  other  than  Tony  —  Ah,  doctor !  why  do  you 
shake  your  head?  you  make  me  think  you  've  heard  some- 
thing or  other.     What  is  it,  sir?  " 

"It 's  just  nothing  at  all,  Mrs.  Butler,  but  your  own  fears, 
and  very  proper  fears  too  they  are,  for  a  young  lad  that 
goes  away  from  home  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  to 
such  a  place  too.  Ah  me !  "  cried  he,  in  a  sort  of  apos- 
trophe, "it 's  not  so  easy  to  be  in  grace  down  about  Charing 
Cross  and  the  Haymarket." 

"You  're  just  frightening  me,  Dr.  Stewart;  that 's  what  it 
is  you  are  doing." 

"And  I  say  it  again,  ma'am,  it 's  yourself  is  the  cause  o' 
it  all.  But  tell  me  what  success  he  has  had,  — has  he  seen 
Sir  Harry  Elphinstone  ?  " 

"That  he  has,  and  seen  a  greater  than  Sir  Harry;  he  has 
come  back  with  a  fine  place,  doctor;  he  's  to  be  one  of  the 
Queen's  —  I  forget  whether  they  call  them  couriers  or  mes- 
sengers —  that  bring  the  state  despatches  all  over  the 
world;  and,  as  poor  dear  Tony  says,  it's  a  place  that  was 
made  for  him, —  for  they  don't  want  Greek  or  Latin,  or  any 
more  book-learning  than  a  country  gentleman  should  have. 


190  TONY  BUTLER. 

What  are  you  sighing  about,  Dr.  Stewart?  There  *s  nothing 
to  sigh  over  getting  five,  maybe  six,  hundred  a  year.'' 

''I  was  not  sighing;  I  w^as  only  thinkin'.  And  when  is 
he  to  begin  this  new  life?  " 

"If  you  are  sighing  over  the  fall  it  is  for  a  Butler,  one  of 
his  kith  and  kin,  taking  a  very  humble  place,  you  may  just 
spare  your  feelings,  doctor,  for  there  are  others  as  good  as 
himself  in  the  same  employ." 

"And  what  does  Sir  Arthur  say  to  it,  ma'am?  "  asked  he, 
as  it  were  to  divert  her  thoughts  into  another  course. 

"Well,  if  you  must  know.  Dr.  Stewart,"  said  she,  draw- 
ing herself  up  and  smoothing  down  her  dress  with  dignity, 
"we  have  ventured  to  take  this  step  without  consulting  Sir 
Arthur  or  any  of  his  family." 

A  somewhat  long  silence  ensued.  At  last  she  said :  "  If 
Tony  was  at  home,  doctor,  he  'd  tell  you  how  kindly  his 
father's  old  friend  received  him,  — taking  up  stories  of  long 
ago,  and  calling  him  Watty,  just  as  he  used  to  do.  And 
so,  if  they  did  not  give  my  poor  boy  a  better  place,  it  was 
because  there  was  nothing  just  ready  at  the  moment,  per- 
haps, —  or  nothing  to  fit  him;  for,  as  Sir  Harry  said  laugh- 
ingly, '  We  can't  make  you  a  bishop,  I  fear.'  " 

"I  dinna  see  anything  against  it,"  muttered  the  old  min- 
ister, not  sorry  for  the  chance  of  a  shot  against  Episcopacy. 

"I'm  thinking.  Dr.  Stewart,"  said  she,  tartly,  "that  your 
rheumatism  must  be  troubling  you  to-day;  and,  indeed, 
I  'm  ashamed  to  say  I  never  asked  you  how  the  pains 
were  ?  " 

"I  might  be  better,  and  I  might  be  worse,  ma'am,"  was 
the  qualified  reply;  and  again  came  a  pause. 

"Tony  was  saying  the  other  day,  doctor,"  resumed  she, 
"that  if  you  will  try  a  touch  of  what  he  calls  the  white 
oils." 

"I'm  very  much  obliged  to  him,  Mrs.  Butler;  he  put  a 
touch  of  the  same  white  oils  on  my  pony  one  day,  and  the 
beast  that  was  always  a  lamb  before  just  kicked  me  over  his 
head  when  I  got  into  the  saddle." 

"You  forget,  doctor,  you  are  not  a  beast  of  burden 
yourself." 

"  We  're  all  beasts  of  burden,  ma'am,  —  all  of  us,  —  evea 


THE  MINISTER'S  VISIT.  191 

the  best,  if  there  be  any  best!  heavy  laden  wi'  our  sins,  and 
bent  down  wi'  our  transgressions.  No,  no,"  added  he,  with 
a  slight  asperity,  ''I  '11  have  none  of  his  white  oils." 

''Well,  you  know  the  proverb,  doctor,  '  He  that  winna  use 
the  means  must  bear  the  moans.'  " 

"'Tis  a  saying  that  hasna  much  sense  in  it,"  said  the 
doctor,  crankily;  "for  who's  to  say  when  the  means  is 
blessed  ?  " 

Here  was  a  point  that  offered  so  wide  a  field  for  discus- 
sion that  the  old  lady  did  not  dare  to  make  a  rejoinder. 

"I  '11  be  going  to  Derry  to-morrow,  Mrs.  Butler,"  resumed 
he,  "if  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you." 

"Going  to  Derry,  doctor?  that 's  a  long  road  for  you!  " 

"So  it  is,  ma'am;  but  I'm  going  to  fetch  back  my 
dochter  Dolly;  she's  to  come  by  the  packet  to-morrow 
evening." 

"  Dolly  coming  home !  How  is  that?  You  did  not  expect 
her,  did  you  ?  " 

"Not  till  I  got  her  letter  this  morning;  and  that 's  what 
made  me  come  over  to  ask  if  Tony  had,  maybe,  told  you 
something  about  how  she  was  looking,  and  what  sort  of 
spirits  she  seemed  in;  for  her  letter's  very  short;  only 
says,  '  I  've  got  a  kind  of  longing  to  be  back  again,  dear 
father;  as  the  song  says,  "It's  hame,  and  it's  hame,  and 
it's  hame  I  fain  wad  be;"  and  as  I  know  well  there  will 
be  an  open  heart  and  an  open  door  to  greet  me,  I  'm  off  to- 
night for  Liverpool. '  " 

"  She  's  a  good  girl,  and  whatever  she  does  it  will  be 
surely  for  the  best,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"I  know  it  well;"  and  he  wiped  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 
"But  I  'm  sore  troubled  to  think  it 's  maybe  her  health  is 
breaking,  and  I  wanted  to  ask  Tony  about  her.  D'  ye  re- 
member, ma'am,  how  he  said  she  was  looking?  " 

Now,  If  there  was  anything  thoroughly  repugnant  to  the 
old  lady's  habits,  it  was  untruthfulness;  and  yet,  as  Tony 
had  not  mentioned  Dolly  since  his  return,  her  only  escape 
was  by  a  little  evasion,  saying,  "When  he  wrote  to  me  his 
first  letter  from  London,  doctor,  he  said,  '  I  was  sorry  to 
find  Dolly  looking  pale,  and  I  thought  thin  also;  besides,' 
added  he,  '  they  have  cut  off  her  pretty  brown  hair.'  " 


192  TONY  BUTLER. 


n- 


"Yes,  she  told  me  of  that,"  sighed  the  doctor.  "And  in 
her  last  note  she  says  again,  *  Dinna  think  me  a  frioht 
father  dear,  for  it 's  growing  again,  and  1  'm  not  half  so 
ugly  as  I  was  three  weeks  ago ; '  for  the  lassie  knows  it  was 
always  a  snare  to  me,  and  I  was  ever  pleased  wi'  her  bright, 
cheery  face." 

"And  a  bright,  cheery  face  it  was!  " 

"Ye  mind  her  smile,  Mrs.  Butler.  It  was  like  hearing 
good  news  to  see  it.  Her  mother  had  the  same."  And  the 
old  man's  lip  trembled,  and  his  cheek  too,  as  a  heavy  tear 
rolled  slowly  down  it.  "Did  it  ever  strike  you,  ma'am," 
added  he,  in  a  calmer  tone,  "that  there's  natures  in  this 
world  gi'en  to  us  just  to  heal  the  affections,  as  there  are 
herbs  and  plants  sent  to  cure  our  bodily  ailments?" 

"It's  a  blessed  thought,  doctor." 

"Eh,  ma'am,  it's  more  than  a  thought;  it's  a  solemn 
truth.  But  I  'm  staying  o'er-long;  I  've  to  go  over  to  John 
Black's  and  see  his  sister  before  I  leave;  and  I  'd  like,  too, 
to  say  a  word  o'  comfort  to  auld  Matty  McClintock." 

"Y^ou '11  be  back  for  the  Sabbath,  doctor?"  asked  she. 

"  Wi'  His  help  and  blessing,  ma'am." 

"  I  was  thinking  if  maybe  you  and  dear  Dolly  would  come 
and  take  dinner  here  —  Saturday  —  there  will  be  nothing 
ready  for  you  at  home ;  and  it  would  be  such  a  pleasure  to 
Tony  before  he  goes  away." 

*'  I  thank  you  heartily,  Mrs.  Butler;  but  our  first  evening 
under  the  auld  roof  we  must  e'en  have  it  by  ourselves. 
You  '11  no  think  the  worse  o'  us  for  this,  I  am  sure,  ma'am." 

"Certainly  not;  then  shall  we  say  Monday?  Dolly  will 
be  rested  by  that  time,  and  Tony  talks  of  leaving  me  so 
soon." 

"  I  '11  just,  wi'  your  good  leave  —  I  '11  just  wait  till  I  see 
Dolly  ;  for  maybe  she  '11  no  be  ower-strong  when  she  comes. 
There 's  nothing  I  can  do  for  you  in  Derry,  is  there  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  sir, —  nothing  that  I  think  of  at  this  moment," 
said  she,  coldly ;  for  the  doctor's  refusal  of  her  second  in- 
vitation had  piqued  her  pride,  and  whether  it  was  from  his 
depression  or  some  other  cause,  the  doctor  himself  seemed 
less  cordial  than  was  his  wont,  and  took  his  leave  with  more 
ceremony  than  usual. 


THE   MINISTER'S  VISIT.  193 

The  old  lady  watched  him  till  he  was  out  of  sight,  sorely 
perplexed  to  divine  whether  he  had  really  unburdened  his 
conscience  of  all  he  had  to  say,  or  had  yet  something  on  his 
mind  unrevealed.  Her  kindly  nature,  however,  in  the  end, 
mastered  all  other  thoughts ;  and  as  she  sat  down  once 
more  to  her  knitting,  she  muttered,  ''Poor  man!  it's  a  sore 
stroke  of  poverty  when  the  sight  of  one's  only  child  coming 
back  to  them  brings  the  sense  of  distress  and  want  with  it." 
The  words  were  not  well  uttered  when  she  saw  Ton}-  coming 
up  the  little  pathway ;  he  was  striding  along  at  his  own 
strong  pace,  but  his  hat  was  drawn  down  over  his  brows, 
and  he  neither  looked  right  nor  left  as  he  went. 

"Did  you  meet  the  doctor,  Tony?"  said  she,  as  she 
opened  the  door  for  him. 

•'No;  how  should  I  meet  him?  I've  not  been  to  the 
Burnside." 

"  But  he  has  only  left  the  house  this  minute,  — you  must 
have  passed  each  other." 

''  I  came  down  the  cliff.  I  was  taking  a  short  cut,"  said 
he,  as  he  threw  himself  into  a  seat,  evidently  tired  and 
weary. 

"  He  has  been  here  to  say  that  he  's  off  for  Derry  to-night 
with  the  mail  to  meet  Dolly." 

''To  meet  Dolly!" 

"Yes,  she's  coming  back;  and  the  doctor  cannot  say 
why,  for  she's  over  that  fever  she  had,  and  getting  stronger 
every  day ;  and  yet  she  writes,  '  You  must  come  and  fetch 
me  from  Derry,  father,  for  I  'm  coming  home  to  you.'  And 
the  old  man  is  sore  distressed  to  make  out  whether  she  's  ill 
again,  or  what 's  the  meaning  of  it.  And  he  thought,  if  he 
saw  you,  it  was  just  possible  you  could  tell  him  some- 
thing." 

"  What  could  I  tell  him?  Why  should  he  imagine  I  could 
tell  him  ? "  said  Tony,  as  a  deep  crimson  flush  covered  his 
face. 

"Only  how  she  was  looking,  Tony,  and  whether  you 
thought  she  seemed  happy  where  she  was  living,  and  if  the 
folk  looked  kind  to  her." 

"I  thought  she  looked  very  sickly,  and  the  people  about 
her  —  the  woman  at  least — not   over-kind.     I'm  not  very 

13 


194  TONY  BUTLER. 

sure,  too,  that  Dolly  herself  was  n't  of  my  mind,  though  she 
did  n't  say  so.     Poor  girl !  " 

"It's  the  poor  old  father  I  pity  the  most,  Tony;  he's 
not  far  off  seventy,  if  he  's  not  over  it ;  and  sore  work  he 
finds  it  keeping  body  and  soul  together ;  and  now  he  has  the 
poor  sick  lassie  come  back  to  him,  wanting  many  a  little 
comfort,  belike,  that  he  can't  afford  her.  Ah,  dear !  is  n't 
there  a  deal  of  misery  in  this  life  ?  " 

"  Except  for  the  rich,"  said  Tony,  with  an  almost  savage 
energy.  "  They  certainly  have  fine  times  of  it.  I  saw  that 
fellow,  Maitland,  about  an  hour  ago,  lolling  beside  Alice 
Lyle  —  Trafford,  I  mean,  in  her  carriage,  as  if  he  owned  the 
equipage  and  all  it  contained;  and  why?  Just  because  he 
is  rich." 

"  He's  a  fine  handsome  man,  Tony,  and  has  fine  manners, 
and  I  would  not  call  him  a  fellow." 

"  1  would,  then ;  and  if  he  only  gives  me  the  chance,  I'll 
call  him  a  harder  name  to  his  face." 

"  Tony,  Tony,  how  can  3^ou  speak  so  of  one  that  wanted 
to  befriend  you  ?  " 

"  Befriend  me,  mother  I  You  make  me  ashamed  to  hear 
3^ou  say  such  a  word.     Befriend  me  !  " 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Tony?  Y^ou  are  not  talk- 
ing, no,  nor  looking  like  3^ourself.  What's  befallen  you,  my 
dear  Tony?  You  went  out  this  morning  so  gay  and  light- 
hearted,  it  made  me  cheery  to  see  you.  Ay,  and  I  did  what 
I  've  not  done  for  many  a  day,  I  sang  to  myself  over  my 
work  without  knowing  it,  and  now  you  're  come  back  as 
dark  as  night.  What's  in  it,  my  bo}'?  tell  3^our  poor  old 
mother.     What's  in  it?" 

"  There's  nothing  in  it,  my  own  little  mother,  except  that 
I  'm  a  good-for-nothing,  discontented  dog,  that  sees  himself 
in  a  very  shabby  condition  without  having  the  pluck  to  try 
and  get  out  of  it.  I  sa}^  mother,  when  are  we  to  begin  our 
lessons?  That  confounded  river  Danube  goes  between  me 
and  my  rest.  Whether  it  rises  in  the  Black  Sea  or  the  Black 
Forest  is  just  as  great  a  puzzle  to  me  as  whether  the  word 
is  spelt  '  peo  '  or  '  poe  '  in  '  people.'  " 

"Oh,  Tony!" 

"  It 's  all  very  well  saying,   '  Oh,  Tony  ;  '  but  I  tell  you, 


THE   MINISTER'S   VISIT.  195 

mother,  a  stupid  fellow  ought  never  to  be  told  two  ways  for 
anything  :  never  say  to  him,  you  can  do  it  in  this  fashion  or 
in  that ;  but,  there  's  the  road  straight  before  you  ;  take  care 
you  never  go  off  it." 

"  Mr.  Maitland  made  that  same  remark  to  me  last  week.'* 

**  Then  don't  tell  it  to  me,  for  I  hate  him.  By  the  way, 
there's  that  gun  of  his.  I  forgot  to  take  it  back  to  Lyle 
Abbey.  I  think  it  was  precious  cool  in  him  to  suppose  a 
stranger  —  a  perfect  stranger,  as  I  am  —  would  accept  a 
present  from  him." 

"'  If  you  are  going  to  the  Abbe}^,  Tony,  I  wish  3'ou  'd  leave 
these  books  there,  and  thank  my  Lady  for  all  her  kind 
attentions  to  me ;  and  say  a  word  to  Sir  Arthur,  too,  to 
excuse  my  not  seeing  him  when  he  called.  Tell  Gregg,  the 
gardener,  not  to  send  me  any  more  vegetables  now ;  it 's  the 
scarce  season,  and  they  '11  be  wanting  them  for  themselves ; 
and  if  you  should  chance  to  see  Mr.  Lockyer,  the  steward, 
just  mention  to  him  that  the  new  sluice  is  just  no  good  at  all, 
and  when  the  rain  comes  heavy,  and  the  mill  is  not  working, 
the  water  comes  up  to  the  kitchen  door.  Are  you  minding 
me,  Tony?" 

"  I  'm  not  sure  that  I  am,"  said  he,  moodily,  as  he  stood 
examining  the  lock  of  the  well-finished  rifle.  "  I  was  to  tell 
Lady  Lyle  something  about  cabbages  or  the  mill-race,  — 
which  was  it?  " 

"  You  are  not  to  make  a  fool  of  yourself,  Tony,"  said  she, 
half  vexed  and  half  amused.  "I'll  keep  my  message  for 
another  day." 

"  And  you  '11  do  well,"  said  he  ;  "  besides,  I  'm  not  very 
sure  that  I  '11  go  further  than  the  gate-lodge  ;  "  and  so  say- 
ing, he  took  his  hat,  and,  with  the  rifle  on  his  shoulder, 
strolled  out  of  the  room. 

"  Ah  !  he  's  more  like  his  father  every  day  !  "  sighed  she, 
as  she  looked  after  him ;  and  if  there  was  pride  in  the 
memory,  there  was  some  pain  also. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A    COMFORTABLE    COUNTRY-HOUSE. 

If  a  cordial  host  and  a  graceful  hostess  can  throw  a  won- 
drous charm  over  the  hospitalities  of  a  house,  there  is  a 
feature  in  those  houses  where  neither  host  nor  hostess  is  felt 
which  contributes  largely  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  assembled 
company.  I  suspect,  indeed,  that  republics  work  more 
smoothly  domestically  than  nationally.  Tilney  was  certainly 
a  case  in  point.  Mrs.  Maxwell  was  indeed  the  owner,  —  the 
demesne,  the  stables,  the  horses,  the  gardens,  the  fish-ponds, 
were  all  hers ;  but  somehow  none  of  the  persons  under  her 
roof  felt  themselves  her  guests.  It  was  an  establishment  in 
which  each  lived  as  he  liked,  gave  his  own  orders,  and  felt 
very  possibly  more  at  home,  in  the  pleasant  sense  of  the 
phrase,  than  in  his  own  house.  Dinner  alone  was  a  "fix- 
ture ;  "  everything  else  was  at  the  caprice  of  each.  The  old 
lady  herself  was  believed  to  take  great  pride  in  the  perfect 
freedom  her  guests  enjoyed ;  and  there  was  a  story  current 
of  a  whole  family  who  partook  of  her  hospitalities  for  three 
weeks,  meeting  her  once  afterwards  in  a  watering-place,  and 
only  recognizing  her  as  an  old  woman  they  saw  at  Tilney. 
Other  tales  there  were  of  free  comments  of  strangers  made 
upon  the  household,  the  dinners,  and  such-like  to  herself,  in 
ignorance  of  who  she  was,  which  she  enjoyed  vastly,  and 
was  fond  of  relating,  in  strict  confidence,  to  her  few 
intimates. 

If  there  were  a  number  of  pleasant  features  in  such  a 
household,  there  were  occasionally  little  trifling  drawbacks 
that  detracted  slightly  from  its  perfect  working,  —  mere 
specks  in  the  sun,  it  is  true,  and,  after  all,  only  such  defects 
as  are  inseparable  from  all  things  where  humanity  enters  and 
influences.     One  of  these  —  perhaps  the  most  marked   one 


A  COMFORTABLE   COUNTRY-HOUSE.  197 

—  was  the  presumption  of  certain  habitites  to  install  them- 
selves in  certain  rooms,  which,  from  long  usage,  they  had 
come  to  regard  as  their  own.  These  prescriptive  rights 
were  so  well  understood  that  the  frequenters  of  Tilney  no 
more  thought  of  disturbing  them  than  they  would  of  contest- 
ing their  neighbors'  title-deeds,  or  appropriating  to  themselves 
some  portions  of  theii'  wardrobes.  Occasionally,  however,  it 
did  happen  that  some  guest  of  more  than  ordinary  pretension 
arrived,  — some  individual  whose  rank  or  station  placed  him 
above  these  conventionalities,  —  and  in  such  cases  some 
deviations  from  ordinary  routine  would  occur,  but  so  quietly 
and  peacefully  withal  as  never  to  disturb  the  uniform  work- 
ing of  the  domestic  machinery. 

*'I  find  my  rooms  always  ready  for  me  here,"  said  Mrs. 
Trafford ;  "and  I  have  no  doubt  that  Mrs.  Maxwell  has 
given  orders  about  yours,  Mr.  Maitland  ;  but  it's  your  own 
fault,  remember,  if  you  're  not  lodged  to  your  liking." 

Maitland  was  not  long  in  making  his  choice.  A  little 
garden  pavilion,  which  was  connected  with  the  house  by  a 
glass  corridor,  suited  him  perfectly ;  it  combined  comfort 
and  quiet  and  isolation,  — who  could  ask  for  more?  —  within 
an  easy  access  of  society  when  it  was  wanted.  There  was 
the  vast  old  garden,  as  much  orchard  and  shrubbery  as 
garden,  to  stroll  in  unobserved ;  and  a  little  bathroom  into 
which  the  water  trickled  all  day  long  with  a  pleasant  drip, 
drip,  that  sounded  most  soothingly. 

"It's  the  Commodore's  favorite  place,  sir,  this  garden- 
house,"  said  the  butler,  who  did  the  honors  to  Maitland, 
"and  it's  only  a  chance  that  he's  not  here  to  claim  it. 
There  was  some  mistake  about  his  invitation,  and  I  suppose 
he  's  not  coming." 

"  Yes,  I  passed  him  a  couple  of  miles  off;  he'll  be  here 
almost  immediately." 

"  We  '11  put  him  up  on  the  second  floor,  sir ;  the  rooms  are 
all  newly  done  up,  and  very  handsome." 

"I'm  sorry  if  I  inconvenience  him,  Mr.  Raikes,"  said 
Maitland,  languidly;  "but  I've  got  here  now,  and  I'm 
tired,  and  my  traps  are  half  taken  out;  and,  in  fact,  I  should 
be  sorrier  still  to  have  to  change.  Y'ou  understand  me,  — 
don't  you?" 


198  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Perfectly,  sir;  and  my  mistress,  too,  gave  orders  that 
you  were  to  have  any  room  you  pleased ;  and  your  own 
hours,  too,  for  everything." 

"  She  is  most  kind.  When  can  I  pay  my  respects  to 
her?" 

"  Before  dinner,  sir,  is  the  usual  time.  All  the  new  com- 
pany meet  her  in  the  drawing-room.  Oh,  there 's  the 
Commodore  now ;  I  hear  his  voice,  and  I  declare  they  're 
bringing  his  trunks  here,  after  all  1  said." 

The  old  sailor  was  now  heard,  in  tones  that  might  have 
roused  a  main-deck,  calling  to  the  servants  to  bring  down  all 
his  baggage  to  the  pavilion,  to  heat  the  bath,  and  send  him 
some  sherry  and  a  sandwich. 

"  I  see  you're  getting  read}^  for  me,  Raikes,"  said  he,  as 
the  somewhat  nervous  functionary  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Well,  indeed,  Commodore  Graham,  these  rooms  are  just 
taken." 

"  Taken  !  and  by  whom?  Don't  you  know,  and  have  n't 
you  explained,  that  they  are  always  mine?" 

"We  thought  up  to  this  morning,  Commodore,  that  you 
were  not  coming." 

"  Who  are  '  we,'  — you  and  the  housemaids,  eh?  Tell  me 
who  are  '  we,'  sir?  " 

"  My  mistress  was  greatly  distressed,  sir,  at  George's 
mistake,  and  she  sent  him  back  late  last  night." 

"Don't  bother  me  about  that.  Who 's  here, — who  has 
got  my  quarters,  and  where  is  he?     I  suppose  it 's  a  man." 

"  It's  a  Mr.  Norman  Maitland," 

"  By  George,  I  'd  have  sworn  it!  "  cried  the  Commodore, 
getting  purple  with  passion.  "  I  knew  it  before  you  spoke. 
Go  in  and  say  that  Commodore  Graham  would  wish  to  speak 
with  him." 

"  He  has  just  lain  down,  sir;  he  said  he  did  n't  feel  quite 
well,  and  desired  he  mightn't  be  disturbed." 

"He's  not  too  ill  to  hear  a  message.  Go  in  and  say 
that  Commodore  Graham  wishes  to  have  one  word  with  him. 
Do  you  hear  me,  sir?  " 

A  flash  of  the  old  man's  eye  and  a  tighter  grasp  of  his 
cane  —  very  significant  in  their  way  —  sent  Mr.  Raikes  on 
his  errand,  from  which,  after  a  few  minutes,  he  came  back, 


A  COMFORTABLE  COUNTRY-HOUSE.  199 

sayiug,  in  a  low  whisper,  "He's  asleep,  sir,  —  at  least  I 
think  so ;  for  the  bedroom  door  is  locked,  and  his  breathing 
conies  very  long." 

"This  is  about  the  most  barefaced,  the  most  outrageously 
impudent  —  "  He  stopped,  checked  by  the  presence  of  the 
servant,  which  he  had  totally  forgotten.  "  Take  my  traps 
back  into  the  hall,  —  do  you  hear  me?  —  the  hall." 

"  If  you  'd  allow  me,  sir,  to  show  the  yellow  rooms  up- 
stairs, with  the  bow  window  —  " 

"  In  the  attics,  I  hope?  " 

''No,  sir, — just  over  the  mistress's  own  room  on  the 
second  floor." 

"  I'll  save  you  that  trouble,  Mr.  Raikes  ;  send  Corrie  here, 
my  coachman,  —  send  him  here  at  once." 

While  Mr.  Raikes  went,  or  affected  to  go,  towards  the 
stables,  —  a  mission  which  his  dignity  secretly  scorned,  — 
the  Commodore  called  out  after  him,  "  And  tell  him  to  give 
the  mare  a  double  feed,  and  put  on  the  harness  again,  —  do 
you  hear  me?  —  to  put  the  harness  on  her." 

Mr.  Raikes  bowed  respectfully ;  but  had  the  Commodore 
only  seen  his  face,  he  would  have  seen  a  look  that  said, 
"  What  I  now  do  must  not  be  taken  as  a  precedent,  —  I  do 
it,  as  the  lawyers  say,  '  w^ithout  prejudice.' " 

In  a  glow  of  hot  temper,  to  which  the  ascent  of  two  pairs 
of  stairs  contributed  something,  the  old  Commodore  burst 
into  the  room  w^here  his  daughters  were  engaged  unpacking. 
Sofas,  tables,  and  chairs  were  already  covered  with  articles 
of  dress,  rendering  his  progress  a  matter  of  very  nice  steer- 
ing through  the  midst  of  them. 

"  Cram  them  in  again,  —  stow  them  all  away  !  "  cried  he  ; 
"  we're  going  back." 

"Back  where?"  asked  the  elder,  in  a  tone  of  dignified 
resistance  years  of  strong  opposition  had  taught  her. 

"Back  to  Port-Graham,  if  you  know  such  a  place.  I've 
ordered  the  car  round  to  the  door,  and  I  mean  to  be  off  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour." 

"But  why  —  what  has  happened?  what's  the  reason  for 
this?" 

"The  reason  is  that  I'm  not  going  to  be  packed  up  in 
the    top    story,   or  given  a  bed  in  a  barrack  room.     That 


200  TONY  BUTLER. 

fellow  Raikes,  —  I  '11  remember  it  to  him  next  Christmas,  — 
that  fellow  has  gone  and  given  the  garden-house  to  that  Mr. 
Maitland." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all?"  broke  in  Miss  Graham. 

"All,  all!  Why,  what  more  would  3^ou  have?  Did  you 
expect  that  he  had  told  me  to  brush  his  coat  or  fetch  his  hot 
water?     What  the  d — 1  do  you  mean  by  '  all '?  " 

"  Then  why  don't  you  take  Mrs.  Chetwyn's  rooms?  They 
are  on  this  floor.  She  's  going  now.  They  are  most  com- 
fortable, and  have  a  south  aspect :  by  the  way  she  w^as  just 
talking  of  Maitland ;  she  knows  all  about  him,  and  he  is  the 
celebrated  Norman  Maitland." 

"Ah,  let  us  hear  that.  I  want  to  unearth  the  fellow  if  I 
only  knew  how,"  said  he,  taking  a  chair. 

"There's  nothing  to  unearth,  papa,"  said  the  younger 
daughter.  "Mrs.  Chetwyn  says  that  there's  not  a  man  in 
England  so  courted  and  feted  as  he  is ;  tliat  people  posi- 
tively fight  for  him  at  country-houses ;  and  it 's  a  regular 
bait  to  one's  company  to  say,  '  We  're  to  have  Maitland 
with  us.'  " 

"  And  who  is  he?  " 

"  She  does  n't  know." 

"What's  his  fortune?" 

"  She  does  n't  know." 

"Where  is  it?" 

"She's  not  sure.  It  must  be  somewhere  abroad, — in 
India,  perhaps." 

"  So  that  this  old  woman  knows  just  as  much  as  we  do 
ourselves,  —  which  is  simply  nothing,  but  that  people  go  on 
asking  this  man  about  to  this  dinner  and  that  shooting  just 
because  they  met  him  somewhere  else,  and  he  amused 
them." 

"'Tis  pretty  clear  that  he  has  money,  wherever  it  comes 
from,"  said  Miss  Graham,  authoritatively.  "  He  came  to 
Hamilton  Court  with  four  hunters  and  three  hackneys,  the 
like  of  which  were  never  seen  in  the  county." 

"Tell  papa  about  his  yacht,"  broke  in  the  younger. 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  about  his  3^acht;  I'd  rather  learn 
why  he  turned  me  out  of  my  old  quarters." 

"  In    all   probability    he    never    heard   they   were   yours. 


A  COMFORTABLE  COUNTRY-HOUSE.  201 

Don't  you  know  well  what  sort  of  house  this  is,  —  how 
everybody  does  what  he  likes  ?  " 

"  Why  did  n't  Alice  Lyle  —  Mrs.  Trafford,  I  mean  —  tell 
him  that  I  always  took  these  rooms." 

"Because  probably  she  was  thinking  of  something  else," 
said  Miss  Graham,  significantly.  "Mrs.  Chetwyn  watched 
them  as  they  drove  up,  and  she  declared  that,  if  Maitland 
had  n't  his  hand  in  her  muff,  her  eyes  have  greatly  deceived 
her." 

"And  what  if  he  had?" 

"  Simply  that  it  means  they  are  on  very  excellent  terms. 
Not  that  Alice  will  make  any  real  conquest  there :  for,  as 
Mrs.  Chetwyn  said,  '  he  has  seen  far  too  many  of  these  fine- 
lady  airs  and  graces  to  be  taken  by  them ; '  and  she  added, 
*A  frank,  outspoken,  natural  girl,  like  your  sister  there, 
always  attracts  men  of  this  stamp.'" 

"Why  didn't  he  come  over  on  Wednesday,  then?  It 
was  his  own  appointment,  and  we  waited  dinner  till  seven 
o'clock,  and  have  not  had  so  much  as  one  line  —  no,  not  one 
line  of  apology." 

"Perhaps  he  was  ill,  perhaps  he  was  absent;  his  note 
might  have  miscarried.  At  all  events,  I  'd  wait  till  we  meet 
him,  and  see  what  explanation  he  '11  make." 

"Yes,  papa,"  chimed  in  Beck,  "just  leave  things  alone. 
'  A  strange  hand  on  the  rod  never  hooked  the  salmon,'  is  a 
saying  of  your  own." 

"There's  that  stupid  fellow  brought  the  car  round  to  the 
door ;  just  as  if  our  splendid  equipage  had  n't  attracted  criti- 
cism enough  on  our  arrival,"  said  Miss  Graham,  as  she 
opened  the  window,  and  by  a  gesture  more  eloquent  than 
graceful  motioned  to  the  servant  to  return  to  the  stableyard ; 
"and  there  come  the  post-horses,"  added  she,  "for  the 
Chetwj'ns.  Go  now  and  secure  her  rooms  before  you  're  too 
late ;  "  and,  rather  forcibly  aiding  her  counsel,  she  bundled 
the  old  Commodore  out  of  the  chamber,  and  resumed  the 
unpacking  of  the  wardrobe. 

"I  declare,  I  don't  know  what  he'll  interfere  in  next," 
said  Miss  Graham. 

"Y"es,"  said  Beck,  with  a  weary  sigh,  "I  wish  he'd  go 
back  to  the  American  war,  and  what  we  did  or  did  not  do 
at  Ticonderoo;a." 


202  TONY  BUTLER. 

Leaving  these  young  ladies  to  discuss,  in  a  spirit  more 
critical  than  affectionate,  the  old  Commodore's  ways  and 
habits,  let  us  for  a  moment  return  to  Maitland,  who  had 
admitted  young  Lyle  after  two  unsuccessful  attempts  to 
see  him. 

"It 's  no  easy  matter  to  get  an  audience  of  you,"  said 
Mark.  "I  have  been  here  I  can't  say  how  many  times, 
always  to  hear  Fenton  lisp  out,  '  In  the  bath,  sir. '  " 

"Yes,  I  usually  take  my  siesta  that  way.  With  plenty 
of  eau-de-Cologne  in  it,  there  's  no  weakening  effect.  Well, 
and  what  is  going  on  here?  any  people  that  1  know?  I 
suppose  not." 

"I  don't  think  it  very  likely;  they  are  all  country  families, 
except  a  few  refreshers  from  the  garrison  at  Newry  and 
Duudalk." 

"And  what  do  they  do?  " 

"Pretty  much  the  same  sort  of  thing  you  'd  find  in  an 
English  country-house.  There  's  some  not  very  good  shoot- 
ing. They  make  riding-parties.  They  have  archery  when 
it's  fine,  and  billiards  when  it  rains;  but  they  always  dine 
very  well  at  seven,  that  much  I  can  promise  you." 

"Not  such  a  cook  as  your  father's,  Lyle,  I  'm  certain." 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Mark,  evidently  flattered  by  the  com- 
pliment. "But  the  cellar  here  is  unequalled.  Do  you  know 
that  in  the  mere  shadowy  possibility  of  being  one  day  her 
heir,  1  groan  every  time  I  see  that  glorious  jNIadeira  placed 
on  the  table  before  a  set  of  fellows  that  smack  their  lips 
and  say,  'It's  good  sherry,  but  a  trifle  too  sweet  for  my 
taste.'  " 

"And  this  same  heritage,  — how  do  the  chances  look?  " 

"I  shall  want  your  power  of  penetration  to  say  that. 
One  day  the  old  woman  will  take  me  aside  and  consult  me 
about  fifty  things;  and  thp  next  she  '11  say,  '  Perhaps  we  'd 
better  make  no  changes,  Mark.  Heaven  knows  what  ideas 
they  may  have  who  '11  come  after  me.'  She  drives  me  half 
distracted  with  these  capricious  turns." 

"It  is  provoking,  no  doubt  of  it." 

"I  'd  not  care  so  much  if  I  thought  it  was  to  fall  to  Bella; 
though,  to  be  sure,  no  good-looking  girl  needs  such  a  for- 
tune as  this.     Do  you  know  that  the  timber  thrown  down 


A  COMFORTABLE   COUNTRY-HOUSE.  203 

by  the  late  gales  is  worth  eight  thousand  pounds?  and 
Harris  the  steward  tells  me  it 's  not  one  fourth  of  what  ought 
to  be  felled  for  the  sake  of  the  young  wood." 

**And  she  has  the  whole  and  sole  disposal  of  all  this?" 

"Every  stick  of  it,  and  some  six  thousand  acres  besides!  " 

"I  'd  marry  her  if  I  were  you.      I  declare  I  would." 

"Nonsense!   this  is  a  little  too  absurd." 

*'Amram  married  his  aunt,  and  I  never  heard  that  she  had 
such  a  dower;  not  to  say  that  the  relationship  in  the 
present  case  is  only  a  myth." 

"  Please  to  remember  that  she  is  about  thirty  years  older 
than  my  mother." 

"1  bear  it  most  fully  in  mind,  and  I  scout  the  vulgar 
impertinences  of  those  who  ridicule  these  marriages.  I 
think  there  is  something  actually  touching  in  the  watchful 
care  and  solicitude  of  a  youthful  husband  for  the  venerable 
object  of  his  affections." 

''Well,  you  shall  not  point  the  moral  by  7ni/  case,  I  prom- 
ise you,"  said  Mark,  angrily. 

"That  sublime  spectacle  that  the  gods  are  said  to  love  — 
a  great  man  struggling  with  adversity  —  is  so  beautifully 
depicted  in  these  unions." 

"Then  why  not — "  He  was  going  to  say,  "Why  not 
marry  her  yourself?"  but  the  fear  of  taking  such  a  liberty 
with  his  distinguished  friend  just  caught  him  in  time  and 
stopped  him. 

"I'll  tell  you  why  not,"  said  Maitland,  replying  to  the 
unuttered  question.  "If  you  have  ever  dined  at  a  civic /e^e, 
you  '11  have  remarked  that  there  is  some  one  dish  or  other 
the  most  gluttonous  alderman  will  suffer  to  pass  untasted, 
—  a  sort  of  sacrifice  offered  to  public  opinion.  And  so  it 
is,  an  intensely  worldly  man,  as  people  are  polite  enough  to 
regard  me,  must  show,  every  now  and  then,  that  there  are 
temptations  which  he  is  able  to  resist.  Marrying  for  money 
is  one  of  these.  I  might  speculate  in  a  bubble  company,  I 
might  traffic  in  cotton  shares,  or  even  '  walk  into  '  my  best 
friend  at  faro,  but  I  mustn't  marry  for  money, — that's 
positive." 

"But  apparently  I  might,"  said  Mark,  sulkily. 

"You  might,"  replied  Maitland,  with  calm  dignity  of 
manner. 


204  TONY  BUTLER. 

"It  is  a  privilege  of  which  I  do  not  mean  to  avail  myself," 
said  Mark,  while  his  face  was  flushed  with  temper.  "Do 
you  know  that  your  friends  the  Grahams  are  here  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  fair  Rebecca  slipping 
sideways  through  life  on  a  jaunting-car." 

"And  there  's  the  old  Commodore  tramping  over  the  house, 
and  worrying  every  one  with  his  complaints  that  you  have 
turned  him  out  of  his  rooms  here,  —  rooms  dedicated  to  his 
comfort  for  the  last  thirty  j^ears." 

"Reason  enough  to  surrender  them  now.  Men  quit  even 
the  Treasury  benches  to  give  the  Opposition  a  turn  of 
office.'*' 

"He  's  a  quarrelsome  old  blade,  too,"  said  Mark,  "partic- 
ularly if  he  suspects  he  's  been  '  put  upon.'  " 

"No  blame  to  him  for  that." 

"A  word  or  two,  said  as  you  well  know  how  to  say  it, 
will  set  all  right;  or  a  line,  perhaps,  saying  that  having 
accidentally  heard  from  me  —  " 

"No,  no,  Mark.  Written  excuses  are  like  undated  accept- 
ances, and  they  may  be  presented  unexpectedly  to  you  years 
after  you  've  forgotten  them.  I  '11  tell  the  Commodore  that 
1  shall  not  inconvenience  him  beyond  a  day  or  two,  for  I 
mean  to  start  by  the  end  of  the  week." 

"They  expect  you  to  come  back  with  us.  Alice  told  me 
you  had  promised." 

^^Uhomme  79?'o;:>ose,"  said  he,  sighing.  "By  the  way,  I 
saw  that  young  fellow  you  told  me  about,  — Butler;  a  good- 
looking  fellow,  too,  well  limbed  and  well  set  up,  but  not  a 
marvel  of  good-breeding  or  tact." 

"  Did  he  attempt  any  impertinences  with  yon  ?  "  asked 
Mark,  in  a  tone  of  amazement. 

"Not  exactly;  he  was  not,  perhaps,  as  courteous  as  men 
are  who  care  to  make  a  favorable  impression ;  but  he  is  not, 
as  you  suspected,  —  he  is  not  a  snob." 

"Indeed!"  said  Mark,  reddening;  for,  though  provoked 
and  angry,  he  did  not  like  to  contest  the  judgment  of  Nor- 
man Maitland  on  such  a  point.  "You  '11  delight  my  sisters 
by  this  expression  of  your  opinion ;  for  my  own  part,  I  can 
only  say  I  don't  agree  with  it." 

"The  more  reason  not  to  avow  it,  Lyle.     Whenever  you 


A  COMFORTABLE  COUNTRY-HOUSE.  205 

don't  mean  very  well  by  a  man,  never  abuse  him,  since, 
after  that,  all  your  judgments  of  him  become  suspect. 
Remember  that  where  you  praise  you  can  detract;  nobody 
has  such  unlimited  opportunities  to  poison  as  the  doctor. 
There,  now,  —  there  's  a  bit  of  Machiavelism  to  think  over 
as  you  dress  for  dinner,  and  I  see  it 's  almost  time  to 
do  so." 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

THE    DINNER    AT    TILNEY. 

When  Maitland  entered  the  drawing-room  before  dinner, 
the  Commodore  was  standing  in  the  window-recess  ponder- 
ing over  in  what  w^ay  he  should  receive  him ;  while  Sally 
and  Beck  sat  somewhat  demurely  watching  the  various 
presentations  to  which  Mrs.  Maxwell  was  submitting  her 
much-valued  guest.  At  last  Maitland  caught  sight  of  where 
they  sat,  and  hurried  across  the  room  to  shake  hands  with 
them,  and  declare  the  delight  he  felt  at  meeting  them. 
"And  the  Commodore,  is  he  here?" 

"Yes;  I  '11  find  him  for  you,"  said  Beck,  not  sorry  to  dis- 
play before  her  country  acquaintance  the  familiar  terms  she 
stood  on  with  the  great  Mr.  Maitland. 

With  what  a  frank  cordiality  did  he  shake  the  old  sailor's 
hand,  and  how  naturally  came  that  laugh  about  nothing,  or 
something  very  close  to  nothing,  that  Graham  said,  in  allu- 
sion to  the  warm  quarters  they  found  themselves  in.  "  Such 
Madeira  I  "  whispered  he,  "and  some  old  '34  claret.  By  the 
way,  you  forgot  your  promise  to  taste  mine." 

"I'll  tell  you  how  that  occurred  when  we've  a  quiet 
moment  together,"  said  Maitland,  in  a  tone  of  such  confi- 
dential meaning  that  the  old  man  was  reassured  at  once. 
"I  've  a  good  deal  to  say  to  you;  but  we  '11  have  a  morning 
together.  You  know  every  one  here?  Who  is  that  with  all 
the  medals  on  his  coat?  " 

"General  Carnwroth;  and  that  old  woman  with  the  blue 
turban  is  his  wife;  and  these  are  the  Grimsbys;  and  that 
short  man  with  the  bald  head  is  Holmes  of  Narrow  Bank, 
and  the  good-looking  girl  there  is  his  niece,  —  and  heiress 
too." 


THE   DINNER  AT  TILNEY.  207 

*'"What  red  arms  she  has!  "  whispered  Maitland. 

*'So  they  are,  by  Jove!"  said  Graham,  laughing;  "and 
I  never  noticed  it  before." 

"Take  me  in  to  dinner,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford,  in  a  low 
voice,  as  she  swept  past  Maitland. 

"I  can't.  Mrs.  Maxwell  has  ordered  me  to  give  her  my 
arm,"  said  he,  following  her;  and  they  went  along  for  some 
paces,  conversing. 

"Have  you  made  your  peace  with  the  Grahams?"  asked 
she,  smiling  half  maliciously. 

"In  a  fashion;  at  least,  I  have  put  off  the  settling-day." 

"If  you  take  to  those  morning  rambles  again  with  the  fair 
Rebecca,  I  warn  you  it  will  not  be  so  easy  to  escape  an 
explanation.     Here  's  Mrs.  Maxwell  come  to  claim  you." 

Heaving  with  fat  and  velvet  and  bugles  and  vulgar  good- 
humor,  the  old  lady  leaned  heavily  on  Maitland's  arm,  really 
proud  of  her  guest,  and  honestly  disposed  to  show  him  that 
she  deemed  his  presence  an  honor.  "It  seems  like  a  dream 
to  me,"  said  she,  "to  see  you  here  after  reading  of  your 
name  so  often  in  the  papers  at  all  the  great  houses  in  Eng- 
land.    I  never  fancied  tliat  old  Tilney  would  be  so  honored." 

It  was  not  easy  to  acknowledge  such  a  speech,  and  even 
Maitland's  self-possession  was  pushed  to  its  last  limits  by 
it;  but  this  awkward  feeling  soon  passed  away  under  the 
genial  influence  of  the  pleasant  dinner.  And  it  was  as 
pleasant  a  dinner  as  good  fare  and  good  wine  and  a  well- 
disposed  company  could  make  it. 

At  first  a  slight  sense  of  reserve,  a  shade  of  restraint, 
seemed  to  hold  conversation  in  check,  and  more  particularly 
towards  where  Maitland  sat,  showing  that  a  certain  dread 
of  him  could  be  detected  amongst  those  who  would  have 
fiercely  denied  if  charged  with  such  a  sentiment. 

The  perfect  urbanity,  tinctured,  perhaps,  with  a  sort  of 
racy  humor,  with  which  Maitland  acknowledged  the  old 
Commodore's  invitation  to  take  wine  with  him,  did  much 
to  allay  this  sense  of  distrust.  "I  say,  Maitland,"  cried  he, 
from  the  foot  of  the  table,  "are  you  too  great  a  dandy  to 
drink  a  glass  of  wine  with  me?  " 

A  very  faint  flush  colored  Maitland's  cheek,  but  a  most 
pleasant   smile   played    on    his    mouth    as  he  said,   "I  am 


208  TONY  BUTLER. 

delighted,  my  dear  Commodore,  —  delighted  to  repudiate 
the  dandyism  and  enjoy  the  claret  at  the  same  time." 

"They  tell  me  it's  vulgar  and  old-fashioned,  and  I  don't 
know  what  else,  to  take  wine  with  a  man,"  resumed  the  old 
sailor,  encouraged  by  his  success  to  engage  a  wider 
attention. 

"I  only  object  to  the  custom  when  practised  at  a  royal 
table,"  said  Maitland,  "and  where  it  obliges  you  to  rise  and 
drink  your  wine  standing."  As  some  of  the  company  were 
frank  enough  to  own  that  they  heard  of  the  etiquette  for 
the  first  time,  and  others,  who  affected  to  be  conversant  with 
it,  ingeniously  shrouded  their  ignorance,  the  conversation 
turned  upon  the  various  traits  which  characterize  different 
courtly  circles;  and  it  was  a  theme  Maitland  knew  how  to 
make  amusing,  —  not  vaingloriously  displaying  himself  as  a 
foreground  figure,  or  even  detailing  the  experiences  as  his 
own,  but  relating  his  anecdotes  with  all  the  modest  diffidence 
of  one  who  was  giving  his  knowledge  at  second-hand. 

The  old  General  was  alone  able  to  cap  stories  with  Mait- 
land on  this  theme,  and  told  with  some  gusto  an  incident 
of  his  first  experiences  at  Lisbon.  "We  had,"  said  he, 
"a  young  attache  to  our  Legation  there;  I  am  talking  of, 
I  regret  to  say,  almost  fifty  years  ago.  He  was  a  very 
good-looking  young  fellow,  quite  fresh  from  England,  and 
not  very  long,  I  believe,  from  Eton.  In  passing  through 
the  crowd  of  the  ball-room,  a  long  streamer  of  lace  which 
one  of  the  Princesses  wore  in  her  hair  caught  in  the  attache's 
epaulette.  He  tried  in  vain  to  extricate  himself,  but,  fear- 
ing to  tear  the  lace,  he  was  obliged  to  follow  the  Infanta 
about,  his  confusion  making  his  efforts  only  the  more  hope- 
less. '  Where  are  you  going,  sir?  What  do  you  mean  by 
this  persistence?'  asked  a  sour- faced  old  lady-of-honor,  as 
she  perceived  him  still  after  them.  '  I  am  attached  to  her 
Royal  Highness,'  said  he,  in  broken  French,  '  and  I  cannot 
tear  myself  away.'  The  Infanta  turned  and  stared  at  him, 
and  then  instantly  burst  out  a-laughing,  but  so  good- 
humoredly  withal,  and  with  such  an  evident  forgiveness, 
that  the  duenna  became  alarmed,  reported  the  incident  to  the 
Queen,  and  the  next  morning  our  young  countryman  got 
his  orders  to  leave  Lisbon  at  once." 


THE  DINNER  AT  TILNEY.  209 

While  the  company  commented  on  the  incident,  the  old 
General  sighed  sorrovyfiilly,  —  over  the  long  past,  perhaps, 
—  and  then  said,  "He  did  not  always  get  out  of  his  entan- 
glements so  easily." 

"You  knew  him,  then?"  asked  some  one. 

"Slightly;  but  I  served  for  many  years  with  his  brother, 
Wat  Butler,  as  good  a  soldier  as  ever  wore  the  cloth." 

"Are  you  aware  that  his  widow  and  sou  are  in  this  neigh- 
borhood?" asked  Mrs.  Trafford. 

"No;  but  it  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  see  them. 
Wat  and  I  were  in  the  same  regiment  in  India.  I  com- 
manded the  company  when  he  joined  us.  And  how  did  he 
leave  them  ?  " 

"On  short  rations,"  broke  in  old  Graham.  "Indeed,  if 
it  was  n't  for  Lyle  Abbey,  I  suspect  very  hard  up  at  times." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind.  Commodore,"  broke  in  Mrs. 
Trafford.  "You  have  been  quite  misinformed.  Mrs.  But- 
ler is,  without  affluence,  perfectly  independent ;  and  more  so 
even  in  spirit  than  in  fortune." 

A  very  significant  smile  from  Maitland  seemed  to  say  that 
he  recognized  and  enjoyed  her  generous  advocacy  of  her 
friend. 

"Perhaps  you  could  do  something.  General,  for  his  son?" 
cried  Mrs.  Maxwell. 

"What  sort  of  a  lad  is  he?" 

"Don't  ask  me,  for  I  don't  like  him;  and  don't  ask  my 
sisters,  for  they  like  him  too  well,"  said  Mark. 

"Have  you  met  him,  Mr.  Maitland?"  asked  the  General. 

"Yes,  but  passingly.  T  was  struck,  however,  by  his  good 
looks  and  manly  bearing.  The  country  rings  with  stories 
of  his  courage  and  intrepidity." 

"And  they  are  all  true,"  said  Isabella  Lyle.  "He  is  the 
best  and  bravest  creature  breathing." 

"There's  praise, — that's  what  I  call  real  praise,"  said 
the  General.  "I'll  certainly  go  over  and  see  him  after 
that." 

"I  '11  do  better.  General,"  said  Mrs.  Maxwell;  "I  '11  send 
over  and  ask  him  here  to-morrow.  Why  do  you  shake  your 
head,  Bella  ?     He  '11  not  come  ?  " 

"No,"  said  she,  calmly. 

14 


210  TONY   BUTLER. 

"Not  if  you  and  Alice  were  to  back  my  request?" 

"I  fear  not,"  said  Alice.  ''He  has  estranged  himself  of 
late  from  every  one ;  he  has  not  been  even  once  to  see  us 
since  he  came  back  from  England." 

"Then  Mark  will  go  and  fetch  him  for  us,"  said  Mrs. 
Maxwell,  the  most  unobservant  of  all  old  ladies. 

"Not  I,  madam;  nor  would  that  be  the  way  to  secure 
mm." 

"Well,  have  him  we  must,"  said  Mrs.  Maxwell;  while 
she  added  in  a  whisper  to  Mrs.  Trafford,  "It  would  never 
do  to  lose  the  poor  boy  such  a  chance." 

"  Beck  says,  if  some  one  will  drive  her  over  to  the  Cause- 
way," cried  the  Commodore,  ''she'll  vouch  for  success, 
and  bring  j^ouug  Tony  back  with  her." 

"Mr.  Maitlaod  offers  himself,"  said  Alice,  whose  eyes 
sparkled  with  fun,  while  her  lips  showed  no  trace  of  a 
smile. 

"Take  the  phaeton,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Maxwell;  "only 
there  will  be  no  place  for  young  Butler ;  but  take  a  britscha, 
and  order  post-horses  at  Greme's  Mill."  And  now  a  sharp 
discussion  ensued  which  road  was  the  shorter,  and  whether 
the  long  hill  or  the  "new  cut"  was  the  more  severe  on  the 
cattle. 

"This  was  most  unfair  of  you,"  said  Maitland  to  Mrs. 
Trafford,  as  they  rose  from  the  table;  "but  it  shall  not 
succeed." 

"How  will  3'ou  prevent  it?"  said  she,  laughing.  "What 
can  you  do  ?  " 

"Rather  than  go  I  'd  say  anything."     - 

"As  how,  for  instance?" 

He  leaned  forward  and  whispered  a  few  words  in  her  ear, 
and  suddenly  her  face  became  scarlet,  her  eyes  flashed  pas- 
sionately, as  she  said,  "This  passes  the  limit  of  jest,  Mr. 
Maitland." 

"Not  more  than  the  other  would  pass  the  limit  of 
patience,"  said  he;  and  now,  instead  of  entering  the 
drawing-room,  he  turned  short  round  and  sought  his  own 
room. 


CHAPTER   XXni. 

THE    FIRST    NIGHT   AT    TILNEY. 

Maitland  was  not  in  the  best  of  tempers  when  he  retired 
to  his  room.  "Whatever  the  words  he  had  whispered  in 
Alice's  ear,  — and  this  history  will  not  record  them,  —  they 
were  a  failure.  They  were  even  worse  than  a  failure,  for 
they  produced  an  effect  directly  the  opposite  to  that 
intended. 

"Have  I  gone  too  fast?"  muttered  he;  "have  I  deceived 
myself?  She  certainly  understood  me  well  in  what  I  said 
yesterday.  She,  if  anything,  gave  me  a  sort  of  encourage- 
ment to  speak.  She  drew  away  her  hand,  it  is  true,  but 
without  any  show  of  resentment  or  anger;  a  sort  of  protest, 
rather,  that  implied,  '  We  have  not  yet  come  to  this.'  These 
home-bred  women  are  hard  riddles  to  read.  Had  she  been 
French,  Spanish,  or  Italian,  —  ay,  or  even  one  of  our  own, 
long  conversant  with  the  world  of  Europe,  —  I  never  should 
have  blundered."  Such  thoughts  as  these  he  now  threw 
on  paper,  in  a  letter  to  his  friend  Caffarelli. 

"What  a  fiasco  I  have  made.  Carlo  mio^"  said  he,  "and 
all  from  not  understanding  the  nature  of  these  creatures, 
who  have  never  seen  a  sunset  south  of  the  Alps.  I  know  how 
little  sympathy  any  fellow  meets  with  from  you,  if  he  be 
only  unlucky.  I  have  your  face  before  me,  —  your  eyebrows 
on  the  top  of  your  forehead,  and  your  nether  lip  quivering 
with  malicious  drollery,  as  you  cry  out,  '  Ma  per  die  ? 
perche?  perche?'  And  I'll  tell  you  why:  because  I  be- 
lieved that  she  had  hauled  down  her  colors,  and  there  was 
no  need  to  continue  firing. 

"Of  course  you'll  say,  '  Menn  male^^  resume  the  action. 
But  it  won't  do,  Signor  Conte,  it  won't  do.  She  is  not  like 
one  of  your  hardened  coquettes  on  the  banks  of  the  Arno  or 
the  slopes  of  Castellamare,  who  think  no  more  of  a  decla- 


212  TONY  BUTLER. 

ration  of  love  than  an  invitation  to  dinner ;  nor  have  the 
slightest  diflSculty  in  making  the  same  excuse  to  either,  —  a 
pre-engagement.  She  is  English,  or  worse  again,  far  worse, 
—  Ii'ish. 

"I  'd  give  —  I  don't  know  what  I  would  n't  give  —  that  I 
could  recall  that  stupid  speech.  I  declare  I  think  it  is  this 
fearful  language  has  done  it  all.  One  can  no  more  employ 
the  Anglo-Saxon  tongue  for  a  matter  of  delicate  treatment, 
than  one  could  paint  a  miniature  with  a  hearth-brush. 
What  a  pleasant  coinage  for  cajolery  are  the  liquid  lies  of 
the  sweet  South,  where  you  can  lisp  duplicity,  and  seem 
never  to  hurt  the  Decalogue." 

As  he  had  written  so  far,  a  noisy  summons  at  his  door 
aroused  him;  while  the  old  Commodore's  voice  called  out, 
"Maitland!  Maitland!  I  want  a  word  with  you."  Maitland 
opened  the  door,  and  without  speaking,  returned  to  the  fire, 
standing  with  his  back  to  it,  and  his  hands  carelessly  stuck 
in  his  pockets. 

"I  thought  I  'd  come  over  and  have  a  cigar  with  you  here, 
and  a  glass  of  brandy-and-water,"  said  Graham.  "They  're 
hard  at  it  yonder,  with  harp  and  piano,  and,  except  holy- 
stoning a  deck,  1  don't  know  its  equal." 

"  I  'm  the  more  sorry  for  your  misfortune,  Commodore, 
that  1  am  unable  to  alleviate  it.  I  'm  deep  in  correspond- 
ence just  now,  as  you  see  there,  and  have  a  quantity  more 
to  do  before  bedtime." 

"Put  it  aside,  put  it  aside;  never  write  by  candlelight. 
It  ruins  the  eyes ;  and  yours  are  not  so  young  as  they  were 
ten  years  ago." 

"The  observation  is  undeniable,"  said  Maitland,  stiffly. 

"You're  six-and-thirty?  well,  five-and-thirty,  I  take  it." 

"I  'm  ashamed  to  say  I  cannot  satisfy  your  curiosity  on 
so  natural  a  subject  of  inquiry." 

"Sally  says  forty,"  said  he,  in  a  whisper,  as  though  the 
remark  required  caution.  "Her  notion  is  that  you  dye 
your  whiskers;  but  Beck's  idea  is  that  you  look  older  than 
you  are." 

"I  scarcely  know  to  which  of  the  young  ladies  I  owe  my 
deeper  acknowledgments,"  said  Maitland,  bowing. 

"You're  a  favorite  with  both;  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for 


THE   FIRST  NIGHT  AT  TILNEY.  213 

the  very  decided  preference  you  showed,  I  tell  you  frankly 
they  'd  have  been  tearing  caps  about  you  ere  this." 

"This  flattery  overwhelms  me;  and  all  the  more  that  it  is 
quite  unexpected." 

"None  of  j^our  mock  modesty  with  me,  you  dog!  "  cried 
the  Commodore,  with  a  chuckling  laugh.  "No  fellow  had 
ever  any  success  of  that  kind  that  he  did  n't  know  it;  and, 
upon  my  life,  I  believe  the  very  conceit  it  breeds  goes  half- 
way with  women." 

"It  is  no  small  prize  to  learn  the  experiences  of  a  man 
like  yourself  on  such  a  theme." 

''Well,  I  '11  not  deny  it,"  said  he,  with  a  short  sigh.  "I 
had  my  share  —  some  would  say  a  little  more  than  my  share 
—  of  that  sort  of  thing.  You'll  not  believe  it,  perhaps, 
but  I  was  a  devilish  good-looking  fellow  when  I  was  — 
let  me  see  —  about  six  or  eight  years  younger  than  you 
are  now." 

"I  am  prepared  to  credit  it,"  said  Maitland,  dryly. 

"There  was  no  make-up  about  me^ — no  lacquering,  no 
paint,  no  padding;  all  honest  scantling  from  keel  to  taffrail. 
I  was  n't  tall,  it 's  true.  I  never,  with  my  best  heels  on, 
passed  five  feet  seven  and  a  half." 

"The  height  of  Julius  Caesar,"  said  Maitland,  calmly. 

"I  know  nothing  about  Julius  Caesar;  but  I'll  say  this, 
it  was  a  good  height  for  a  sailor  in  the  old  gun-brig  days, 
when  they  never  gave  you  much  head-room  'tween  decks.  It 
don't  matter  so  much  now  if  every  fellow  in  the  ward-room 
was  as  tall  as  yourself.     What's  in  this  jar  here?" 

"Seltzer." 

"And  this  short  one,  —  is  it  gin?" 

"No;  it's  Vichy." 

"Why,  what  sort  of  stomach  do  you  expect  to  have  with 
all  these  confounded  slops?  I  never  tasted  any  of  these 
vile  compounds  but  once,  —  what  they  called  Carlsbad,  — 
and,  by  Jove,  it  was  bad,  and  no  mistake.  It  took  three 
fourths  of  a  bottle  of  strong  brandy  to  bring  back  the  heat 
into  my  vitals  again.  Why  don't  you  tell  Raikes  to  send 
you  in  some  sherry?  That  old  brown  sherry  is  very  pleas- 
ant, and  it  must  be  very  wholesome,  too,  for  the  doctor  here 
alwavs  sticks  to  it." 


214  TONY  BUTLER. 

"I  never  drink  wine,  except  at  my  dinner,"  was  the  cold 
and  measured  reply. 

"You  '11  come  to  it  later  on,  —  you  '11  come  to  it  later  on," 
said  the  Commodore,  with  a  chuckle,  "when  you  '11  not  be 
careful  about  the  color  of  your  nose  or  the  width  of  your 
waistcoat.  There  's  a  deal  of  vanity  wrapped  up  in  abstemi- 
ousness, and  a  deal  of  vexation  of  spirit  too."  And  he 
laughed  at  his  own  drollery  till  his  eyes  ran  over.  "Y^ou  're 
saying  to  yourself,  Maitlaud,  '  What  a  queer  old  cove  that 
is!'  —  ain't  you?  Out  with  it,  man!  I'm  the  best- 
tempered  fellow  that  ever  breathed,  —  with  the  men  I  like, 
mind  you;  not  with  every  one.  No,  no;  old  G.  G.,  as 
they  used  to  call  me  on  board  the  'Hannibal,'  is  an  ugly 
craft  if  you  board  him  on  the  wrong  quarter.  I  don't  know 
how  it  would  be  now,  with  all  the  new-fangled  tackle;  but 
in  the  old  days  of  flint-locks  and  wide  bores  I  was  a  dead 
shot.     I  've  heard  you  can  do  something  that  way  ?  " 

"A  little,"  said  he,  dryly. 

"Every  gentleman  ought;  I've  always  maintained  it;  as 
poor  old  Bowes  used  to  say,  '  With  a  strong  head  for  port, 
and  a  steady  hand  for  a  pistol,  a  man  may  go  a  long  way  in 
this  world.'  There,  I  think  it 's  your  turn  now  at  the  pump. 
I  've  had  all  the  talk  to  myself  since  I  came  in ;  and  the 
most  you  've  done  has  been  to  grunt  out  '  Indeed ! '  or 
'Really!'" 

"I  have  listened.  Commodore, — listened  most  atten- 
tively. It  has  been  my  great  privilege  to  have  heard  your 
opinions  on  three  most  interesting  topics,  —  women,  and 
wine,  and  the  duel;  and,  I  assure  you,  not  unprofitably." 

"I  'm  not  blown,  not  a  bit  run  off  my  wind,  for  all  that, 
if  I  was  n't  so  dry;  but  my  mouth  is  like  a  lime-burner's 
hat.  Would  you  just  touch  that  bell  and  order  a  little 
sherry  or  Madeira?  You  don't  seem  to  know  the  ways  of 
the  house  here;  but  every  one  does  exactly  as  he  pleases." 

"I  have  a  faint  inkling  of  the  practice,"  said  Maitland, 
with  a  very  peculiar  smile. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  this  evening?  You  're  not 
like  yourself  one  bit.  No  life,  no  animation  about  you. 
Ring  again;  pull  it  strong.  There,  they'll  hear  that,  I 
hope,"  cried  he,  as,  impatient  at  Maitland's  indolence,  he 


THE   FIRST  NIGHT  AT  TILNEY.  215 

gave  such  a  jerk  to  the  bell-rope  that  it  came  away  from  the 
wire. 

"I  didn't  exactly  come  in  here  for  a  gossip,"  said  the 
Commodore,  as  he  resumed  his  seat.  "I  wanted  to  have  a 
little  serious  talk  with  you,  and  perhaps  you  are  impatient 
that  I  have  n't  begun  it,  eh?  " 

"It  would  be  unpardonable  to  feel  impatience  in  such 
company,"  said  Maitland,  with  a  bow. 

"Yes,  yes;  I  know  all  that.  That's  what  Y^ankees  call 
soft  sawder;  but  I'm  too  old  a  bird.  Master  Maitland,  to 
be  caught  with  chaff,  and  I  think  as  clever  a  fellow  as  you 
are  might  suspect  as  much." 

"Y^ou  are  very  unjust  to  both  of  us  if  you  imply  that  I 
have  not  a  high  opinion  of  your  acuteness." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  thought  acute,  sir;  1  am  not  a  law- 
yer, nor  a  lawyer's  clerk,  —  I  'm  a  sailor." 

"And  a  very  distinguished  sailor." 

"That's  as  it  may  be.  They  passed  me  over  about  the 
good-service  pension,  and  kept  '  backing  and  filling'  about 
that  coast-guard  appointment  till  I  lost  temper  and  told 
them  to  give  it  to  the  devil,  for  he  had  never  been  out  of  the 
Admiralty  since  I  remembered  it;  and  I  said,  '  Gazette  him 
at  once,  and  don't  let  him  say,  Y^ou  're  forgetting  an  old 
friend  and  supporter.'" 

"Did  you  write  that?" 

"Beck  did,  and  I  signed  it;  for  I  've  got  the  gout  or  the 
rheumatism  in  these  knuckles  that  makes  writing  tough  work 
for  me,  and  tougher  for  the  man  it 's  meant  for.  What  ser- 
vants they  are  in  this  house!  —  no  answer  to  the  bell." 

"And  what  reply  did  they  make  you?  "  asked  Maitland. 

"They  shoved  me  on  the  retired  list;  and  Curtis,  the  Sec- 
retary, said,  '  I  had  to  suppress  your  letter,  or  my  Lords 
would  certainly  have  struck  your  name  off  the  Navy  List,' 
—  a  thing  I  defy  them  to  do;  a  thing  the  Queen  couldn't 
do!" 

"Will  you  try  one  of  these?"  said  Maitland,  opening  his 
cigar-case;  "these  are  stronger  than  the  pale  ones." 

"No;  I  can't  smoke  without  something  to  drink,  which  I 
foresee  I  shall  not  have  here." 

"I  deplore  my  inhospitality.'* 


216  TONY   BUTLER. 

"Inhospitality!  why,  you  have  nothing  to  say  to  it.  It 
is  old  mother  Maxwell  receives  us  all  here.  You  can  be 
neither  hospitable  nor  inhospitable,  so  far  as  I  see,  except- 
ing, perhaps,  letting  me  see  a  little  more  of  that  fire  than 
you  have  done  hitherto,  peacocking  out  the  tail  of  your 
dressing-gown  in  front  of  me." 

"Pray  draw  closer,"  said  Maitland,  moving  to  one  side; 
"m.ake  yourself  perfectly  at  home  here." 

"So  I  used  to  be,  scores  of  times,  in  these  very  rooms. 
It 's  more  than  five-and-twenty  years  that  I  ever  occupied 
any  others." 

"I  was  thinking  of  going  back  to  the  dravring-room  for  a 
cup  of  tea  before  I  resumed  my  work  here." 

"Tea!  don't  destroy  your  stomach  with  tea.  Get  a  little 
gin,  —  they  've  wonderful  gin  here ;  I  take  a  glass  of  it 
every  night.  Beck  mixes  it,  and  puts  a  sprig  of,  not  mint, 
but  marjoram,  I  think  they  call  it.  I  '11  make  her  mix  a 
brew  far  you ;  and,  by  the  way,  that  brings  me  to  what  I 
came  about." 

"Was  it  to  recommend  me  to  take  gin?  "  asked  Maitland, 
with  a  well-assumed  innocence. 

"No,  sir;  not  to  recommend  you  to  take  gin,"  said  the 
old  Commodore,  sternly.  "I  told  you  when  I  came  in  that 
I  had  come  on  an  errand  of  some  importance." 

"If  you  did,  it  has  escaped  me." 

"Well,  you  sha'n't  escape  me;  that's  all." 

"I  hope  I  misunderstand  you.  I  trust  sincerely  that  it  is 
to  the  dryness  of  your  throat  and  the  state  of  3'our  tonsils 
that  T  must  attribute  this  speech.  Will  you  do  me  the  very 
great  favor  to  recall  it?  " 

The  old  man  fidgeted  in  his  chair,  buttoned  his  coat,  and 
unbuttoned  it,  and  then  blurted  out  in  an  abrupt  spasmodic 
way,  "All  right,  — I  didn't  mean  offence  —  I  intended  to 
say  that  as  we  were  here  now  —  that  as  we  had  this  oppor- 
tunity of  explaining  ourselves  —  " 

"  That's  quite  sufficient.  Commodore.  I  ask  for  nothing 
beyond  your  simple  assurance  that  nothing  offensive  was 
intended." 

"  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  ever  suffered  as  much  from  thirst 
in   all  my  life.     I  was   eighteen  days  on  a  gill   of  water 


THE   FIRST  NIGHT  AT  TILNEY.  217 

a  day  in  the  tropics,  and  did  n't  feel  it  worse  than  this. 
I  must  drink  some  of  that  stuff,  if  I  die  for  it.  Which 
is  the  least  nauseous?" 

"I  think  you'll  find  the  Vichy  pleasant;  there  is  a  little 
fixed  air  in  it,  too." 

"  1  wish  there  was  a  little  cognac  in  it.  Ugh  !  it 's  detest- 
able !  Let 's  try  the  other.  Worse  !  I  vow  and  declare  — 
worse !  Well,  Maitland,  whatever  be  your  skill  in  other  mat- 
ters, I  '11  be  shot  if  I  '11  back  you  for  your  taste  in  liquors." 

Maitland  smiled,   and  was  silent. 

"I  shall  have  a  fever  —  I  know  I  shall  —  if  I  don't  take 
something.  There 's  a  singing  in  my  head  now  like  a  chime 
of  bells,  and  the  back  of  my  throat  feels  like  a  coal-bunker 
in  one  of  those  vile  steamers.  How  you  stand  it  I  don't 
know;  but  to  be  sure  you've  not  been  talking  as  I  have." 
The  old  Commodore  rose,  but  when  he  reached  the  door, 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  remembered  something ;  for  he 
placed  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  and  said,  "  What  a  brain 
1  have !  here  was  I  walking  away  without  ever  so  much  as 
saying  one  word  about  it." 

"  Could  we  defer  it  till  to-morrow,  my  dear  Commodore?" 
said  Maitland,  coaxingly.  "  I  have  not  the  slightest  notion 
what  it  is,  but  surely  we  could  talk  it  over  after  breakfast." 

''But  3'ou '11  be  off  by  that  time.  Beck  said  that  there 
would  be  no  use  starting  later  than  seven  o'clock." 

"Off!    and  where  to?" 

"To  the  Burnside, —  to  the  widow  Butler's,  —  where 
else!    You  heard  it  all  arranged  at  dinner,  didn't  you?" 

"  I  heard  something  suggested  laughingly  and  lightly, 
but  nothing  serious,  far  less  settled  positively." 

"Will  you  please  to  tell  me,  sir,  how  much  of  your  life 
is  serious,  and  how  much  is  to  be  accepted  as  levity?  for 
I  suppose  the  inquiry  I  have  to  make  of  you  amounts 
just  to  that,  and  no  more." 

"  Commodore  Graham,  it  would  distress  me  much  if  I 
were  to  misunderstand  you  once  again  to-night,  and  you 
will  oblige  me  deeply  if  you  will  put  any  question  you 
expect  me  to  answer  in  its  ver}^  simplest  form." 

"That  I  will,  sir;  that  I  will!  Now  then,  what  are 
your  intentions  ?  " 


218  TONY  BUTLER. 

"What  are  my  intentions?" 

*' Yes,  sir,  —  exactly  so;    what  are  your  intentions?'* 

*'  I  declare  I  have  so  many,  on  such  varied  subjects,  and 
of  such  different  hues,  that  it  would  be  a  sore  infliction  on 
your  patience  were  I  only  to  open  the  budget;  and  as  to 
either  of  us  exhausting  it,  it  is  totally  out  of  the  question. 
Take  your  chance  of  a  subject,  then,  and  I'll  do  my  best 
to  enlighten  you." 

"This  is  fencing,  sir;    and  it  doesn't  suit  me?" 

"  If  you  knew  how  very  little  the  whole  conversation 
suits  me,  you  'd  not  undervalue  my  patience." 

"  I  ask  you  once  again,  what  are  your  intentions  as 
regards  my  youngest  daughter,  Miss  Rebecca  Graham ! 
That's  plain  speaking,  I  believe." 

"Nothing  plainer;  and  my  reply  shall  be  equally  so.  I 
have  none,  —  none  whatever." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  never  paid  her  any  particular 
attentions  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"That  you  never  took  long  walks  with  her  when  at 
Lyle  Abbey,  quite  alone  and  unaccompanied?" 

"  We  walked  together  repeatedly.  1  am  not  so  ungrate- 
ful as  to  forget  her  charming  companionship." 

"Confound  your  gratitude,  sir!  it's  not  that  I'm  talk- 
ing of.  Y^ou  made  advances.  Y^ou  —  you  told  her  —  you 
said  —  in  fact,  you  made  her  believe  —  ay,  and  you  made 
me  believe  —  that  you  meant  to  ask  her  to  marry  you." 

"  Impossible  !  "    said  Maitland  ;    "  impossible  !  " 

"And  why  impossible?  Is  it  that  our  respective  con- 
ditions are  such  as  to  make  the  matter  impossible?" 

"I  never  thought  of  such  an  impertinence,  Commodore. 
When  I  said  impossible,  it  was  entirely  with  respect  to 
the  construction  that  could  be  placed  on  all  my  intercourse 
with  Miss  Graham." 

"And  didn't  I  go  up  to  your  room  on  the  morning  I 
left,  and  ask  you  to  come  over  to  Port-Graham  and  talk 
the  matter  over  with  me  ?  " 

"  Y^ou  invited  me  to  your  house,  but  I  had  not  the  faint- 
est notion  that  it  was  to  this  end.  Don't  shake  your  head 
as  if  you  doubted  me;    I  pledge  you  my  word  on  it." 


THE   FIRST  NIGHT  AT  TILNEY.  219 

*' How  often  have  you  done  this  sort  of  thing?  for  no 
fellow  is  as  cool  as  you  are  that's  not  an  old  hand  at 
it." 

"  I  can  forgive  a  good  deal  —  " 

*'  Forgive  !  I  should  think  you  could  forgive  the  people 
you've  injured.  The  question  is,  can  /  forgive?  Yes,  sir, 
can  /  forgive?" 

''  I  declare  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  inquire." 

"  That 's  enough,  —  quite  enough  ;  you  shall  hear  from  me. 
It  may  take  me  twenty-four  hours  to  find  a  friend  ;  but  before 
this  time  to-morrow  evening,  sir,  I'll  have  him." 

Maitland  shrugged  his  shoulders  carelessly,  and  said,  "  As 
3'ou  please,  sir." 

"  It  shall  be  as  I  please,  sir;  I  '11  take  care  of  that.  Are 
you  able  to  say  at  present  to  whom  my  friend  can  address 
himself?  " 

"  If  your  friend  will  first  do  the  favor  to  call  upon  me,  I  '11 
be  able  by  that  time  to  inform  him." 

"  All  right.     If  it 's  to  be  Mark  Lyle  —  " 

"  Certainly  not ;  it  could  never  occur  to  me  to  make  choice 
of  3^our  friend  and  neighbor's  son  for  such  an  office." 

"Well,  I  thought  not, — I  hoped  not;  and  I  suspected, 
besides,  that  the  little  fellow  with  the  red  whiskers  —  that 
major  who  dined  one  day  at  the  Abbey  —  " 

Maitland's  pale  cheek  grew  scarlet,  his  eyes  flashed  with 
passion,  and  all  the  consummate  calm  of  his  manner  gave 
w^ay  as  he  said,  "With  the  choice  of  my  friend,  sir,  you 
have  nothing  to  do,  and  I  decline  to  confer  further  with 
you." 

"Eh,  eh!  that  shell  broke  in  the  magazine,  did  it?  I 
thought  it  would.  I  '11  be  sliot  but  I  thought  it  would !  " 
And  with  a  hearty  laugh,  but  bitter  withal,  the  old  Commo- 
dore seized  his  hat  and  departed. 

Maitland  was  much  tempted  to  hasten  after  the  Commodore, 
and  demand  —  imperiously  demand  —  from  him  an  explana- 
tion of  his  last  words,  whose  taunt  was  even  more  in  the 
manner  than  the  matter.  Was  it  a  mere  chance  hit,  or  did 
the  old  sailor  really  know  something  about  the  relations 
between  himself  and  M'Caskey?  A  second  or  two  of 
thought  reassured  him,   and    he  laughed  at  his  own  fears, 


220  TONY  BUTLER. 

and  turned  once  more  to  the  table  to  finish  his  letter  to 
his  friend. 

"  You  have  often,  my  dear  Carlo,  heard  me  boast  that 
amidst  all  the  shifting  chances  and  accidents  of  my  life, 
I  had  ever  escaped  one  signal  misfortune,  —  in  my  mind, 
about  the  greatest  that  ever  befalls  a  man.  I  have  never 
been  ridiculous.  This  can  be  my  triumph  no  longer.  The 
charm  is  broken !  I  suppose,  if  I  had  never  come  to  this 
blessed  country,  I  might  have  preserved  my  immunity  to 
the  last;  but  you  might  as  well  try  to  keep  your  gravity 
at  one  of  the  Polichinello  combats  at  Naples  as  preserve 
your  dignity  in  a  land  where  life  is  a  perpetual  joke,  and 
where  the  few  serious  people  are  so  illogical  in  their 
gravity,  they  are  the  best  fun  of  all.  Into  this  strange 
society  I  plunged  as  fearlessly  as  a  man  does  who  has 
seen  a  large  share  of  life,  and  believes  that  the  human 
crystal  has  no  side  he  has  not  noticed  ;  and  the  upshot  is, 
I  am  supposed  to  have  made  warm  love  to  a  young  woman 
that  I  scarcely  flirted  with,  and  am  going  to  be  shot  at 
to-morrow  by  her  father  for  not  being  serious  in  my  inten- 
tions!  You  may  laugh  —  you  may  scream,  shout,  and  kick 
with  laughter,  and  I  almost  think  I  can  hear  you;  but  it's 
a  very  embarrassing  position,  and  the  absurdity  of  it  is 
more  than  I  can  face. 

"  Why  did  I  ever  come  here?  What  induced  me  ever  to 
put  foot  in  a  land  where  the  very  natives  do  not  know  their 
own  customs,  and  where  all  is  permitted  and  nothing  is 
tolerated?  It  is  too  late  to  ask  you  to  come  and  see  me 
through  this  troublesome  affair;  and  indeed  my  present 
vacillation  is  whether  to  marry  the  young  lady  or  run  away 
bodily ;  for  I  own  to  you  I  am  afraid  —  heartily  afraid  — 
to  fight  a  man  that  might  be  my  grandfather ;  and  I  can't 
bear  to  give  the  mettlesome  old  fellow  the  fun  of  shooting 
at  me  for  nothing.  And  worse  —  a  thousand  times  worse 
than  all  this,  —  Alice  will  have  such  a  laugh  at  me !  Ay, 
Carlo,  here  is  the  sum  of  my  affliction. 

"  I  must  close  this,  as  I  shall  have  to  look  out  for  some 
one  long  of  stride  and  quick  of  eye,  to  handle  me  on  the 
ground.  Meanwhile,  order  dinner  for  two  on  Saturday 
week,    for   I    mean   to   be   with   you ;    and,  therefore,    say 


THE  FIRST  NIGHT  AT  TILNEY.  221 

nothing  of  those  affairs  which  interest  us,  ultra  montani. 
I  write  by  this  post  to  M'C.  to  meet  me  as  I  pass  through 
Dublin ;  and,  of  course,  the  fellow  will  want  money.  I 
shall  therefore  draw  on  Cipriani  for  whatever  is  necessary, 
and  you  must  be  prepared  to  tell  him  the  outlay  was  indis- 
pensable. I  have  done  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  here,  — 
neither  seduced  man  nor  woman,  and  am  bringing  back  to 
the  cause  nothing  greater  or  more  telling  than 

''Norman  Maitland." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A    STARLIT    NIGHT    IN    A   GARDEN. 

It  was  late  at  night,  verging  indeed  on  morning,  when 
Maitland  finished  his  letter.  All  was  silent  around,  and  in 
the  great  house  the  lights  were  extinguished,  and  apparentl}^ 
all  retired  to  rest.  Lighting  his  cigar,  he  strolled  out  into 
the  garden.  The  air  was  perfectly  still ;  and  although  there 
was  no  moon,  the  sky  was  spangled  over  with  stars,  whose 
size  seemed  greater  seen  through  the  thin  frosty  atmosphere. 
It  was  pre-eminently  the  bright  clear  elastic  night  of  a 
northern  latitude,  and  the  man  of  pleasure  in  a  thousand 
shapes,  the  voluptuary,  the  viveur,  was  still  able  to  taste  the 
exquisite  enjoyment  of  such  an  hour,  as  though  his  appetite 
for  pleasure  had  not  been  palled  by  all  the  artifices  of  a  life 
of  luxury.  He  strolled  about  at  random  from  alley  to  alley, 
now  stopping  to  inhale  the  rich  odor  of  some  half-sleeping 
plant,  now  loitering  at  some  old  fountain,  and  bathing  his 
temples  with  the  ice-cold  water.  He  was  one  of  those  men  — 
it  is  not  so  small  a  category  as  it  might  seem  —  who  fancy 
that  the  same  gifts  which  win  success  socially,  would  be  just 
as  sure  to  triumph  if  employed  in  the  wider  sphere  of  the 
great  ambitions  of  life.  He  could  count  the  men  he  had 
passed,  and  easily  passed,  in  the  race  of  social  intercourse, 
—  men  who  at  a  dinner-table  or  in  a  drawing-room  had 
not  a  tithe  of  his  quickness,  his  versatility,  his  wit,  or  his 
geniality,  and  yet,  plodding  onwards  and  upwards,  had 
attained  station,  eminence,  and  fortune  ;  while  he  —  he,  well 
read,  accomplished,  formed  by  travel  and  polished  by 
cultivation  —  there  he  was !  just  as  he  had  begun  the  world, 
the  only  difference  being  those  signs  of  time  that  tell  as 
fatally  on  temperament  as  on  vigor ;  for  the  same  law  that 
makes  the  hair  gray  and  the  cheek  wrinkled,  renders  wit 
sarcastic  and  humor  malevolent. 


A  STARLIT   NIGHT  IN  A  GARDEN.  223 

Maitland  believed  —  honestly  believed  —  he  was  a  better 
man  than  this  one  here  who  held  a  high  command  in  India, 
and  that  other  who  wrote  himself  Secretary  of  State.  He 
knew  how  little  effort  it  had  cost  him,  long  ago,  to  leave 
"scores  of  such  fellows"  behind  at  school  and  at  the 
university ;  but  he,  unhappily,  forgot  that  in  the  greater 
battle  of  life  he  had  made  no  such  efforts,  and  laid  no  tax 
on  either  his  industry  or  his  ability.  He  tried  —  he  did  his 
very  best  —  to  undervalue,  to  his  own  mind,  their  successes, 
and  even  asked  himself  aloud,  ''Which  of  them  all  do  I 
envy?"  but  conscience  is  stronger  than  casuistry,  however 
crafty  it  be,  and  the  answer  came  not  so  readily  as  he 
wished. 

While  he  thus  mused,  he  heard  his  name  uttered,  so  close 
to  him,  too,  that  he  started,  and,  on  looking  up,  saw  that 
Mrs.  Trafford's  rooms  were  lighted,  and  one  of  the  windows 
which  "  gave  "  upon  a  terrace  was  open.  Voices  came  from 
the  room  within,  and  soon  two  figures  passed  out  on  the 
terrace,  which  he  speedily  recognized  to  be  Alice  and  Mark 
Lyle. 

"  You  mistake  altogether,  Mark,"  said  she,  eagerly.  *'  It 
is  no  question  whatever,  whether  your  friend  Mr.  Maitland 
goes  away  disgusted  with  Ireland,  and  sick  of  us  all.  It  is 
a  much  graver  matter  here.  What  if  he  were  to  shoot  this 
old  man?  I  suppose  a  fine  gentleman  as  he  is  would  deem 
it  a  very  suitable  punishment  to  any  one  who  even  passingly 
angered  him." 

"  But  why  should  there  be  anything  of  the  kind?  It  is  to 
me  Maitland  would  come  at  once  if  taere  were  such  a  matter 
in  hand." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  tliat ;  and  I  am  sure  that  Raikes 
overheard  provocation  pass  between  them,  and  that  the 
Commodore  left  this  half  an  hour  ago,  merely  telling  Sally 
that  he  had  forgotten  some  lease  or  law  paper  that  he  ought 
to  have  sent  off  by  post." 

''  If  that  be  the  case,  there  's  nothing  to  be  done." 

"  How  do  you  mean  nothing  to  be  done?  " 

"  I  mean,  that  as  Maitland  has  not  consulted  me,  I  have 
no  pretence  to  know  anything  about  it." 

"  But  if  you  do  know  it,  and  if  I  tell  it  to  you?  " 


224  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  All  that  would  not  amount  to  such  knowledge  as  I  could 
avail  myself  of.  Maitlaud  is  not  a  man  with  whom  any  one 
can  take  liberties,  Alice." 

'*  What?"  said  she,  haughtily,  and  as  though  she  had  but 
partly  heard  his  speech. 

"  I  said  that  no  man  takes  liberties  with  Maitland." 

A  very  insolent  laugh  from  Alice  was  the  answer. 

"  Come,  come,"  cried  Mark,  angrily.  **  All  these  scornful 
airs  are  not  in  keeping  with  what  you  yourself  wrote  about 
Maitland  to  Bella  just  two  days  ago." 

"  And  had  Bella  —  did  she  show  you  my  letters?  " 

*'I  don't  believe  she  intended  me  to  see  the  turned-down 
bit  at  the  end ;  but  I  did  see  it,  and  I  read  a  very  smart 
sketch  of  Norman  Maitland,  but  not  done  by  an  unfriendly 
hand." 

"It's  not  too  late  to  revoke  my  opinion,"  said  she,  pas- 
sionately. "But  this  is  all  quite  beside  what  I'm  thinking 
of.     Will  you  go  down  and  see  Mr.  Maitland  ? " 

"  He 's  in  bed  and  asleep  an  hour  ago." 

^ '  He  is  not.  I  can  see  the  light  on  the  gravel  from  his 
windows ;  and  if  he  were  asleep,  he  could  be  awakened,  I 
suppose." 

"  I  have  not  the  slightest  pretext  to  intrude  upon  him, 
Alice." 

"What  nonsense  all  this  is!  Who  is  he,  —  what  is  he, 
that  he  must  be  treated  with  all  this  deference  ?  " 

"  It's  somewhat  too  late  in  the  day  to  ask  who  and  what 
the  man  is  of  whom  every  society  in  Europe  contests  the 
possession." 

"  My  dear  Mark,  be  reasonable.  What  have  we  to  do 
just  now  with  all  the  courtly  flatteries  that  have  been 
extended  to  your  distinguished  friend,  or  the  thousand  and 
one  princesses  he  might  have  married?  What  I  want  is  that 
he  should  n't,  first  of  all,  make  a  great  scandal ;  and  sec- 
ondly, shoot  a  very  worthy  old  neighbor,  whose  worst  sin  is 
being  very  tiresome." 

"  And  what  I  want  is,  first,  that  Maitland  should  n't  carry 
away  from  this  county  such  an  impression  that  he'd  never 
endure  the  thought  of  revisiting  it ;  and  secondly,  I  want  to 
go  to  bed,  and  so  good-night." 


A   STARLIT  NIGHT  IN   A  GARDEN.  225 

*'Mark,  one  word, — only  one,"  cried  she;  but  he  was 
gone.  The  bang  of  a  heavy  door  resounded,  and  then  a  deep 
silence  showed  she  was  alone. 

Maitland  watched  her  as  she  paced  the  terrace  from  end  to 
end  with  impatient  steps.  There  was  a  secret  pleasure  in 
his  heart  as  he  marked  all  the  agitation  that  moved  her,  and 
thought  what  a  share  he  himself  had  in  it  all.  At  last  she 
withdrew  within  the  room,  but  the  opening  and  shutting  of  a 
door  followed,  and  he  surmised  that  she  had  passed  out. 
While  he  was  disputing  with  himself  whether  she  might  have 
followed  Mark  to  his  room,  he  heard  a  footstep  on  the 
gravel,  and  saw  that  she  was  standing  and  tapping  with  her 
finger  on  the  window  of  his  ciiamber.  Maitland  hurried 
eagerly  back.  "Is  it  possible  that  I  see  3'ou  here,  Mrs. 
Trafford,"  cried  he,   "at  this  liour?" 

She  started,  and  for  a  moment  seemed  too  much  overcome 
to  answer,  when  she  said:  "  You  may  believe  that  it  is  no 
light  cause  brings  me ;  and  even  now  I  tremble  at  what  I  am 
doing :  but  I  have  begun  and  I  '11  go  on.  Let  us  walk  this 
way,   for  I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

"Will  you  take  my  arm?"  said  Maitland,  but  without 
anything  of  gallantry  in  his  tone. 

"No,  —  yes,  I  will,"  said  she,  hurriedly;  and  now  for 
some  paces  they  moved  along  side  by  side  in  silence. 

"  Mr.  Maitland,"  said  she  at  last,  "  a  silly  speech  I  made 
to-day  at  dinner  has  led  to  a  most  serious  result,  and  Com- 
modore Graham  and  you  have  quarrelled." 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  interrupt  you.  Nothing  that  fell  from 
you  has  occasioned  any  rupture  between  Commodore  Graham 
and  myself ;   for  that  I  can  pledge  you  my  word  of  honor." 

"  But  you  have  quarrelled.     Don't  deny  it." 

"  We  had  a  very  stupid  discussion,  and  a  difference  ;  and 
1  believe,  if  the  Commodore  would  have  vouchsafed  me  a 
patient  hearing,  he  would  have  seen  that  he  had  really 
nothing  to  complain  of  on  my  part.  I  am  quite  ready  to 
make  the  same  explanation  to  any  friend  he  will  depute  to 
receive  it." 

"  It  was.  however,  what  I  said  about  your  driving  over 
with  Miss  Rebecca  Graham  to  the  Burnside  that  led  to  all 
this." 

15 


226  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,  I  assure  you." 

*'  Well,  I  don't  care  for  the  reason,"  said  she,  impatiently ; 
''  but  you  have  had  a  quarrel,  and  are  about  to  settle  it  by  a 
duel.  I  have  no  doubt,"  continued  she,  more  rapidly,  "  that 
you,  Mr.  Maitland,  can  treat  this  sort  of  thing  very  lightly. 
I  suppose  it  is  part  of  your  code  as  man  of  the  world  to  do 
so ;  but  this  old  man  is  a  father ;  his  life,  however  little  you 
may  think  of  it,  is  of  very  great  consequence  to  his  family ; 
he  is  an  old  friend  and  neighbor  whom  we  all  care  for,  and 
any  mishap  that  might  befall  him  would  be  a  calamity  to  us 
all*" 

''  Pray  continue,"  said  he,  softly;  "  I  am  giving  you  all 
my  attention.  Having  given  the  sketch  of  one  of  so  much 
value  to  his  friends,  I  am  waiting  now  to  hear  of  the  other 
whom  nobody  is  interested  for." 

"This  is  no  time  for  sarcasm,  however  witty,  Mr.  Mait- 
land ;  and  I  am  sure  your  better  feeling  will  tell  you  that  I 
could  not  have  come  here  to  listen  to  it.  Do  not  be  offended 
with  me  for  my  bluntness,  nor  refuse  what  I  have  asked 
you." 

"  You  have  not  asked  anything  from  me,"  said  he,  smiling. 

"Well,  I  will  now,"  said  she,  with  more  courage  in  her 
tone ;  "I  will  ask  you  not  to  go  any  further  in  this  affair,  — 
to  pledge  your  word  to  me  that  it  shall  stop  here." 

"  Remember  I  am  but  one  ;  any  promise  I  may  make  you 
can  only  take  effect  with  the  concurrence  of  another." 

"I  know  nothing  —  I  want  to  know  nothing  —  of  these 
subtleties ;  tell  me  flatly  j^ou  '11  not  give  this  old  man  a 
meeting." 

"  I  will,  if  you  '11  only  say  how  I  am  to  avoid  it.  No,  no  ; 
do  not  be  angry  with  me,"  said  he,  slightly  touching  the 
hand  that  rested  on  his  arm.  "  I'd  do  far  more  than  this 
to  win  one,  even  the  faintest  smile  that  ever  said,  '  I  thank 
you ; '  but  there  is  a  difficulty  here.  You  don't  know  with 
what  he  charges  me." 

"Perhaps  I  suspect  it." 

"It  is  that  after  paying  most  marked  attention  to  his 
daughter,  I  have  suddenly  ceased  to  follow  up  my  suit,  and 
declared  that  I  meant  nothing  by  it." 

"  Well?  "  said  she,  quietly. 


A  STARLIT  NIGHT  IX  A   GARDEN.  227 

"  Well,"  repeated  he.  "  Surely  no  one  knows  better  than 
you  that  there  was  no  foundation  for  this." 

"I!  how-  should  I  know  it? " 

'•^  At  all  events,"  replied  he,  with  some  irritation  of  man- 
ner, "you  could  n't  believe  it." 

"I  declare  I  don't  know,"  said  she,  hesitatingly,  for  the 
spirit  of  drollery  had  got  the  better  even  of  the  deep  inter- 
est of  the  moment, —  ''  I  declare  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Maitland. 
There  is  a  charm  in  the  manner  of  an  unsophisticated  coun- 
try' girl  which  men  of  the  world  are  often  the  very  first  to 
acknowledge." 

"  Charming  unsophistication !  "  muttered  he,  half  aloud. 

''  At  all  events,  Mr.  Maitland,  it  is  no  reason  that  because 
you  don't  admire  a  young  lady,  you  are  to  shoot  her  papa." 

"How  delightfully  illogical  you  are!"  said  he;  and, 
strangely  enough,  there  was  an  honest  admiration  in  the 
way  he  said  it. 

"  I  don't  want  to  convince,  sir;  I  want  to  be  obeyed. 
What  I  insist  upon  is,  that  this  matter  shall  end  here.  Do 
you  mind,  Mr.  Maitland,  that  it  end  here?" 

"  Only  show  me  how,  and  I  obey  you." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  with  all  your  tact  and  clever- 
ness, you  cannot  find  a  means  of  showing  that  you  have  been 
misapprehended,  that  you  are  deepl}^  mortified  at  being  mis- 
understood, that  by  an  expression  of  great  humility  —  Do 
you  know  how  to  be  humble  ?  " 

"  I  can  be  abject,"  said  he,  with  a  peculiar  smile. 

"  I  should  really  like  to  see  you  abject!  "  said  she,  laugh- 
ingly. 

"  Do  so  then,"  cried  he,  dropping  on  his  knee  before  her, 
while  he  still  held  her  hand,  but  with  a  very  different  tone 
of  voice,  —  a  voice  now  tremulous  with  earnest  feeling,  — 
continued  :  "  There  can  be  no  humility  deeper  than  that  with 
which  I  ask  your  forgiveness  for  one  word  I  spoke  to  you 
this  evening.  If  you  but  knew  all  the  misery  it  has  caused 
me !  " 

"  Mr.  Maitland,  this  mockery  is  a  just  rebuke  for  my 
presence  here.  If  I  had  not  stooped  to  such  a  step,  you 
would  never  have  dared  this." 

"It  is  no  mockery  to  say  what  my  heart  is  full  of,  and 


228  TONY  BUTLER. 

what  you  will  not  deny  you  have  read  there.  No,  Alice, 
you  may  reject  my  love ;  you  cannot  pretend  to  ignore  it." 

Though  she  started  as  he  called  her  Alice,  she  said  noth- 
ing, but  only  withdrew  her  hand.  At  last  she  said:  "I 
don't  think  this  is  very  generous  of  you.  I  came  to  ask  a 
great  favor  at  your  hands,  and  you  would  place  me  in  a 
position  not  to  accept  it." 

*'  So  far  from  that,"  said  he,  rising,  "  I  distinctly  tell  you 
that  I  place  all,  even  my  honor,  at  your  feet,  and  without 
one  shadow  of  a  condition.  You  say  jou  came  here  to  ask 
me  a  favor,  and  my  answer  is  that  I  accord  whatever  you 
ask,  and  make  no  favor  of  it.  Now,  what  is  it  you  wish  me 
to  do?" 

"It's  very  hard  not  to  believe  you  sincere  when  you 
speak  in  this  way,"  said  she,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Don't  try,"  said  he,  in  the  same  low  tone. 

"  You  promise  me,  then,  that  nothing  shall  come  of  this?  " 

"  I  do,"  said  he,  seriously. 

"And  that  you  will  make  any  amends  the  Commodore's 
friend  may  suggest?  Come,  come,"  said  she,  laughing,  "I 
never  meant  that  you  were  to  marry  the  young  lady." 

"  I  really  don't  know  how  far  you  were  going  to  put  my 
devotion  to  the  test." 

The  pleasantness  with  which  he  spoke  this  so  amused  her 
that  she  broke  again  into  laughter,  and  laughed  heartily  too. 
"  Confess,"  said  she  at  last, —  "  confess  it's  the  only  scrape 
you  did  not  see  your  way  out  of !  " 

"  I  am  ready  to  confess  it's  the  only  occasion  in  my  life 
in  which  I  had  to  place  my  honor  in  the  hands  of  a  lady." 

"  Well,  let  us  see  if  a  lad}^  cannot  be  as  adroit  as  a  gen- 
tleman in  such  an  affair ;  and  now,  as  you  are  in  my  hands, 
Mr.  Maitland, —  completely  in  m^/  hands, —  I  am  peremptory, 
and  my  first  orders  are  that  you  keep  close  arrest.  Raikes 
will  see  that  you  are  duly  fed,  and  that  you  have  your  letters 
and  the  newspapers ;  but  mind,  on  any  account,  no  visitors 
without  my  express  leave  :  do  you  hear  me,  sir?" 

"I  do;  and  all  I  would  say  is  this,  that  if  the  tables 
should  ever  turn,  and  it  would  be  my  place  to  impose  con- 
ditions, take  my  word  for  it,  I  '11  be  just  as  absolute.  Do 
you  hear  me,  madam?  " 


A  STARLIT  NIGHT  IN  A  GARDEN.  229 

"I  do;  and  I  don't  understand,  and  I  don't  want  to 
understand  you,"  said  she,  in  some  confusion.  *'Now, 
good-bye.  It  is  almost  day.  I  declare  that  gray  streak 
there  is  daybreak !  " 

"Oh,  Alice,  if  you  would  let  me  say  one  word  —  only  one 
—  before  we  part." 

"I  will  not,  Mr.  Maitlaud,  and  for  this  reason,  that  I 
intend  we  should  meet  again." 

"Be  it  so,"  said  he,  sadly,  and  turned  away.  After  he 
had  walked  a  few  paces,  he  stopped  and  turned  round ;  but 
she  was  already  gone,  how  and  in  what  direction  he  knew 
not.  He  hurried  first  one  way,  then  another,  but  without 
success.  If  she  had  passed  into  the  house,  — and,  of  course, 
she  had,  —  with  what  speed  she  must  have  gone !  Thought- 
ful, but  not  unhappy,  he  returned  to  his  room,  if  not  fully 
assured  that  he  had  done  what  was  wisest,  well  disposed  to 
hope  favorably  for  the  future. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


JEALOUS    TRIALS. 


When  Mrs.  Maxwell  learned,  in  the  morning,  that  Mr, 
Maitland  was  indisposed  and  could  not  leave  his  room,  that 
the  Commodore  had  gone  off  in  the  night,  and  Mark  and 
Mrs.  Trafford  had  started  by  daybreak,  her  amazement 
became  so  insupportable  that  she  hastened  from  one  of  her 
guests  to  the  other,  vainly  asking  them  to  explain  these 
mysteries. 

"What  a  fidgety  old  woman  she  is!  "  said  Beck  Graham, 
who  had  gone  over  to  Bella  Lyle,  then  a  prisoner  in  her 
room  from  a  slight  cold.  "She  has  been  rushing  over  the 
whole  house,  inquiring  if  it  be  possible  that  my  father  has 
run  away  with  Alice,  that  your  brother  is  in  pursuit  of  them, 
and  Mr.  Maitland  taken  poison  in  a  moment  of  despair.  At 
all  events,  she  has  set  every  one  guessing  and  gossiping  at 
such  a  rate  that  all  thought  of  archery  is  forgotten,  and 
even  our  private  theatricals  have  lost  their  interest  in  pres- 
ence of  this  real  drama." 

"How  absurd!  "  said  Bella,  languidly. 

"Yes,  it's  very  absurd  to  fill  one's  house  with  company, 
and  give  them  no  better  amusement  than  the  chit-chat  of  a 
boarding-house.     I  declare  I  have  no  patience  with  her." 

"  Where  did  your  father  go?  " 

"He  went  over  to  Port-Graham.  He  suddenly  bethought 
him  of  a  lease  —  I  think  it  was  a  lease  —  he  ought  to  have 
sent  off  by  post,  and  he  was  so  eager  about  it  that  he 
started  without  saying  good-bye.  And  Mark,  —  what  of 
him  and  Alice?" 

"There's  all  the  information  I  can  give  you;"  and  she 
handed  her  a  card  with  one  line  in  pencil:  "Good-bye  till 
evening,  Bella.  You  were  asleep  when  I  came  in.  — 
Alice." 


JEALOUS  TRIALS.  231 

*'How  charmingly  mysterious!  And  you  have  ho  idea 
where  they  've  gone?  " 

*'Not  the  faintest;  except,  perhaps,  back  to  the  Abbey 
for  some  costumes  that  they  wanted  for  that  '  great 
tableau.'" 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  she,  bluntly.  "I  suspect  — 
shall  I  tell  you  what  I  suspect?  But  it's  just  as  likely 
you  '11  be  angry,  for  you  Lyles  will  never  hear  anything 
said  of  one  of  you.  Yes,  you  may  smile,  my  dear,  but  it 's 
well  known,  and  I  'm  not  the  first  who  has  said  it." 

"If  that  be  true,  Beck,  it  were  best  not  to  speak  of  people 
who  are  so  excessively  thin-skinned." 

"I  don't  know  that.  I  don't  see  why  you  are  to  be  in- 
dulged any  more  than  your  neighbors.  I  suppose  every  one 
must  take  his  share  of  that  sort  of  thing." 

Bella  merely  smiled,  and  Rebecca  continued:  "What  I 
was  going  to  say  was  this,  —  and,  of  course,  you  are  at 
liberty  to  dissent  from  it  if  you  like,  —  that,  however 
clever  a  tactician  your  sister  is,  Sally  and  I  saw  her  plan 
of  campaign  at  once.  Yes,  dear,  if  you  had  been  at  dinner 
yesterday  you  'd  have  heard  a  very  silly  project  thrown  out 
about  my  being  sent  over  to  fetch  Tony  Butler,  under  the 
escort  of  Mr.  Norman  Maitland.  Not  that  it  would  have 
shocked  me,  or  frightened  me  in  the  least,  — I  don't  pre- 
tend that;  but  as  Mr.  Maitland  had  paid  me  certain  atten- 
tion at  Lyle  Abbey,  — you  look  quite  incredulous,  my  dear, 
but  it  is  simply  the  fact;  and  so  having,  as  I  said,  made 
these  advances  to  me,  there  would  have  been  considerable 
awkwardness  in  our  going  off  together  a  drive  of  several 
hours  without  knowing  —  without  any  understanding  —  " 
She  hesitated  for  the  right  word,  and  Bella  added,  "J  quol 
s'en  teiiir,  in  fact." 

"1  don't  know  exactly  what  that  means,  Bella;  but,  in 
plain  English,  1  wished  to  be  sure  of  what  he  intended. 
My  dear  child,  though  that  smile  becomes  you  vastly,  it 
also  seems  to  imply  that  you  are  laughing  at  my  extreme 
simplicity,  or  my  extreme  vanity,  or  both." 

Bella's  smile  faded  slowl}^  away;  but  a  slight  motion  of 
the  angle  of  the  mouth  showed  that  it  was  not  without  an 
effort  she  was  grave. 


232  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  I  am  quite  aware,"  resumed  Beck,  "that  it  requires  some 
credulity  to  believe  that  one  like  lnyself  could  have  attracted 
any  notice  when  seen  in  the  same  company  with  Alice  Lyle 
—  Trafford,  I  mean  —  and  her  sister;  but  the  caprice  of 
men,  my  dear,  will  explain  anything.  At  all  events,  the 
fact  is  there,  whether  one  can  explain  it  or  not;  and,  to 
prove  it,  papa  spoke  to  Mr.  Maitland  on  the  morning  we 
came  away  from  the  Abbey ;  but  so  hurriedly  —  for  the  car 
was  at  the  door,  and  we  were  seated  on  it  —  that  all  he  could 
manage  to  say  was,  that  if  Mr.  Maitland  would  come  over 
to  Port-Graham  and  satisfy  him  on  certain  points,  —  the 
usual  ones,  I  suppose,  —  that  —  that,  in  short,  the  matter 
was  one  which  did  not  offer  insurmountable  obstacles.  All 
this  sounds  very  strange  to  your  ears,  my  dear,  but  it  is 
strictly  true,  every  word  of  it." 

"I  cannot  doubt  whatever  you  tell  me,"  said  Bella;  and 
now  she  spoke  with  a  very  marked  gravity. 

"Away  we  went,"  said  Rebecca,  who  had  now  got  into 
the  sing-song  tone  of  a  regular  narrator,  — "away  we  went, 
our  first  care  on  getting  back  home  being  to  prepare  for  Mr. 
Maitland' s  visit.  We  got  the  little  green-room  ready,  and 
cleared  everything  out  of  the  small  store-closet  at  the  back, 
and  broke  open  a  door  between  the  two  so  as  to  make  a 
dressing-room  for  him,  and  we  had  it  neatly  papered,  and 
made  it  really  very  nice.  We  put  up  that  water-colored 
sketch  of  Sally  and  myself  making  hay,  and  papa  leaning 
over  the  gate ;  and  the  little  drawing  of  papa  receiving  the 
French  commander's  sword  on  the  quarter-deck  of  the 
'  Malabar:  '  in  fact,  it  was  as  neat  as  could  be,  —  but  he 
never  came.     No,  my  dear,  —  never." 

"How  was  that?" 

"You  shall  hear;  that  is,  you  shall  hear  what  followed, 
for  explanation  I  have  none  to  give  you.  Mr.  Maitland 
was  to  have  come  over,  on  the  Wednesday  following,  to 
dinner.  Papa  said  five,  and  he  promised  to  be  punctual; 
but  he  never  came,  nor  did  he  send  one  line  of  apolog3\ 
This  may  be  some  new-fangled  politeness,  —  the  latest  thing 
in  that  fashionable  world  he  lives  in,  —  but  still  I  cannot 
believe  it  is  practised  by  well-bred  people.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  my  dear,  we  never  saw  him  again  till  yesterday,  when 


JEALOUS  TRIALS.  233 

he  passed  us  in  your  sister's  fine  carriage-and-four,  he 
lolling  back  this  way,  and  making  a  little  gesture,  so,  with 
his  hand  as  he  swept  past,  leaving  us  in  a  cloud  of  dust 
that  totally  precluded  him  from  seeing  whether  we  had 
returned  his  courtesy  —  if  he  cared  for  it.  That 's  not  all," 
she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  Bella's  arm.  "The  first  thing 
he  does  on  his  arrival  here  is  to  take  papa's  rooms.     Well, 

—  you  know  what  I  mean, —  the  rooms  papa  always  occupies 
here ;  and  when  Raikes  remarks,  '  These  are  always  kept  for 
Commodore  Graham,  sir;  they  go  by  the  name  of  the  Com- 
modore's quarters,'  his  reply  is,  'They'll  be  better  known 
hereafter  as  Mr.  Norman  Maitland's,  Mr.  Raikes.'  \Yord 
for  word  what  he  said;  Raikes  told  me  himself.  As  for 
papa,  he  was  furious ;  he  ordered  the  car  to  the  door,  and 
dashed  into  our  room,  and  told  Sally  to  put  all  the  things 
up  again,  —  that  we  were  going  off.  I  assure  you,  it  was 
no  easy  matter  to  calm  him  down.  You  have  no  idea  how 
violent  he  is  in  one  of  these  tempers;  but  we  managed  at 
last  to  persuade  him  that  it  was  a  mere  accident,  and  Sally 
began  telling  him  the  wonderful  things  she  had  heard  about 
Maitland  from  Mrs.  Chetwyn,  —  his  fortune  and  his 
family,  and  what  not.  At  last  he  consented  to  take  the 
Chetwyns'  rooms,  and  down  we  went  to  meet  Mr.  Maitland, 

—  I  own,  not  exactly  certain  on  what  terms  it  was  to  be. 
Cordial  is  no  name  for  it,  Bella;  he  was  —  I  won't  call  it 
affectionate,  but  I  almost  might:  he  held  my  hand  so  long 
that  I  was  forced  to  draw  it  away ;  and  then  he  gave  a  little 
final  squeeze  in  the  parting,  and  a  look  that  said  very 
plainly,  'We,  at  least,  understand  each  other.'  It  was  at 
that  instant,  my  dear,  Alice  opened  the  campaign." 

"Alice!     What  had  Alice  to  do  with  it?  " 

"Nothing, — nothing  whatever,  by  right,  but  everything 
if  you  admit  interference  and  —  Well,  I  '11  not  say  a 
stronger  word  to  her  own  sister.  I  '11  keep  just  to  fact,  and 
leave  the  commentary  on  this  to  yourself.  She  crosses  the 
drawing-room,  —  the  whole  width  of  the  large  drawing- 
room,  —  and,  sweeping  grandly  past  us  in  that  fine  Queen- 
of-Sheba  style  she  does  so  well,^she  throws  her  head  back, 

—  it  was  that  stupid  portrait-painter,  Hillyer,  told  her  '  it 
gave  action  to  the  features,' — and  says,  'Take  me  into 


234  TONY  BUTLER. 

dinDer,  will  you  ?  '  But  she  was  foiled ;  old  Mrs.  Maxwell 
had  already  bespoke  him.  I  hope  you  're  satisfied  now, 
Bella,  that  this  is  no  dream  of  mine." 

"But  I  cannot  see  any  great  mischief  in  it,  either." 

"Possibly  not.  I  have  not  said  that  there  was.  Sally  's 
no  fool,  however,  and  her  remark  was,  —  '  There  's  nothing 
so  treacherous  as  a  widow. '  " 

Bella  could  not  contain  herself  any  longer,  but  laughed 
heartily  at  this  profound  sentiment. 

"Of  course  we  do  not  expect  you  to  see  this  with  our 
eyes,  Bella,  but  we  're  not  blind,  for  all  that.  Later  on 
came  the  project  for  fetching  over  Tony  Butler,  when  Alice 
suggested  that  Mr.  Maitland  was  to  drive  me  over  to  the 
Burnside  —  " 

"Was  that  so  very  ungenerous,  then?" 

"In  the  way  it  was  done,  my  dear,  — in  the  way  it  was 
done.  In  that  ha,  ha,  ha!  manner,  as  though  to  say, 
'Had  n't  you  both  better  go  off  on  a  lark  to-morrow  that 
will  set  us  all  talking  of  you?  '  " 

"No,  no!  I'll  not  listen  to  this,"  cried  Bella,  angrily; 
"these  are  not  motives  to  attribute  to  my  sister." 

"Ask  herself;  let  her  deny  it,  that's  all;  but,  as  Sally 
says,  '  There  's  no  plajung  against  a  widow,  because  she 
knows  every  card  in  your  hand.'  " 

"I  reall}^  had  no  idea  they  were  so  dangerous,"  said 
Bella,  recovering  all  her  good-humor  again. 

"You  may,  perhaps,  find  it  out  one  da3\  Mind,  I  'm  not 
sa^'ing  Alice  is  not  very  handsome,  and  has  not  the  biggest 
blue  eyes  in  the  world,  which  she  certainly  does  not  make 
smaller  in  the  way  she  uses  them;  or  that  any  one  has  a 
finer  figure,  though  some  do  contrive  to  move  through  a 
room  without  catching  in  the  harp  or  upsetting  the  china. 
Men,  I  take  it,  are  the  best  judges,  and  they  call  her 
perfection." 

"They  cannot  think  her  more  beautiful  than  she  is." 

"Perhaps  not,  dear;  and  as  you  are  so  like  as  to  be  con- 
stantly mistaken  —  " 

"Oh,  Beck!  surely  this  is  not  fair,"  said  she,  and  so  im- 
ploringly that  the  other's  voice  softened  down  as  she 
said,  — 


JEALOUS  TRIALS.  235 

"I  never  meant  to  be  rude;  but  my  head  is  gone  wild 
to-day;  for,  after  all,  when  matters  had  gone  so  far,  Alice 
had  no  right  to  come  in  in  this  fashion;  and,  as  Sally  says, 
'  Why  did  she  never  encourage  him  till  she  saw  his  atten- 
tions addressed  to  another?  '  " 

"I  never  perceived  that  she  gave  Mr.  Maitland  any 
encouragement.  Yes,  you  may  hold  up  your  hands,  Beck, 
and  open  your  eyes  very  wide;  but  I  repeat  what  I  have 
said." 

"That's  a  matter  of  taste,  I  suppose,"  said  Beck,  with 
some  irritation.  "There  are  various  sorts  of  encourage- 
ments :  as  Sally  says,  '  A  look  will  go  further  with  one  than 
a  lock  of  your  hair  with  another.'  " 

"But,  really,  Sally  would  seem  to  have  a  wisdom  like 
Solomon's  on  these  subjects,"  said  Bella. 

"Yes;  and  what's  more,  she  has  acquired  it  without  any 
risk  or  peril.  She  had  neither  to  drive  half  over  a  county 
with  a  gentleman  alone,  or  pass  a  good  share  of  a  night 
walking  with  him  in  the  alleys  of  a  garden." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this?"  asked  Bella,  angrily. 

"Ask  Alice;  she  '11  be  here,  I  suppose,  this  evening;  and 
I  'm  sure  she  '11  be  delighted  to  satisfy  all  your  sisterly 
anxiety." 

"But  one  word.  Beck,  — just  one  word  before  you  go." 

"  Not  a  syllable.  I  have  said  now  what  I  rigidl}^  prom- 
ised Sally  not  to  mention  when  I  came  in  here.  You  got  it 
out  of  me  in  a  moment  of  irritation,  and  I  know  well 
what's  in  store  for  me  when  I  confess  it,  — so  good-bye." 

"But,  Beck  —  " 

"Don't  make  yourself  cough,  dear;  lie  down  and  keep 
your  shawl  round  you.  If  I  'd  thought  you  were  so  feverish, 
I  'd  not  have  come  over  to  torment  you,  — good-bye;  "  and, 
resisting  all  Bella's  entreaties  and  prayers,  Beck  arose  and 
left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


BESIDE    THE    HEARTH. 


As  Tony  sat  at  tea  with  his  mother,  Janet  rushed  in  to  say 
that  Dr.  Stewart  had  just  come  home  with  his  daughter, 
and  that  she  seemed  very  weak  and  ill,  —  "daunie-like,"  as 
Janet  said,  "and  naethiug  like  the  braw  lassie  that  left  this 
twa  years  ago.  They  had  to  help  her  out  o'  the  stage ;  and 
if  it  hadna  been  that  Mrs.  Harley  had  gi'en  her  a  glass  o' 
gooseberry  wine,  she  wad  hae  fainted."  Janet  saw  it  all, 
for  she  had  gone  into  Coleraine,  and  the  doctor  gave  her  a 
seat   back  with  himself  and  his  daughter. 

"Poor  girl!  And  is  she  much  changed?"  asked  Mrs. 
Butler.  , 

"She's  no  that  changed  that  I  wudna  know  her,"  said 
Janet,  "and  that's  all.  She  has  no  color  in  her  cheeks  nor 
mirth  in  her  een ;  and  instead  of  her  merry  laugh,  that  set 
everybody  off,  she  's  just  got  a  little  faint  smile  that 's  mair 
sad  than  onything  else." 

"Of  course  she  's  weak;  she's  had  a  bad  fever,  and  she  's 
now  come  off  a  long  journey,"  said  Tony,  in  a  sort  of  rough 
discontented  voice. 

"Ay,"  muttered  Janet;  "but  I  doubt  she  '11  never  be  the 
same  she  was." 

"To  be  sure  you  do,"  broke  in  Tony,  rudely.  "You 
would  n't  belong  to  your  county  here  if  you  did  n't  look  at 
the  blackest  side  of  everj^thing.  This  end  of  our  island  is 
as  cheerful  in  its  population  as  it  is  in  scenery;  and  when- 
ever we  have  n't  a  death  in  a  cabin,  we  stroll  out  to  see  if 
there  's  no  sign  of  a  shipwreck  on  the  coast." 

"No  such  a  thing.  Master  Tony.  He  that  made  us 
made  us  like  ither  folk;  and  we  're  no  worse  or  better  than 
our  neighbors." 


BESIDE  THE   HEARTH.  237 

"What  about  the  letters,  Janet?  Did  you  tell  the  post- 
master that  they  're  very  irregular  clowu  here?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Butler. 

"I  did,  ma'am,  and  he  said  ye  're  no  warse  off  than  others; 
that  when  the  Lord  sends  floods,  and  the  waters  rise, 
human  means  is  a'  that  we  have;  and  if  the  boy  eouldna 
swim,  the  leather  bag  wi'  the  letters  would  hae  gi'en  him 
little  help." 

''And  could  n't  he  have  told  ye  all  that  without  cant- 
ing —  " 

"Tony!  Tony!"  broke  in  his  mother,  reprovingly. 
"This  is  not  the  way  to  bear  these  things,  and  I  will  not 
hear  it." 

"Don't  be  angry,  little  mother,"  said  he,  taking  her 
hand  between  both  his  own.  "I  know  how  rough  and  ill- 
tempered  I  have  grown  of  late;  and  though  it  frets  me 
sorely,  I  can  no  more  throw  it  off  than  I  could  a  fever." 

"You  '11  be  soon  yourself  again,  my  poor  Tony.  Your 
dear  father  had  his  days  when  none  dare  go  near  him  but 
myself;  and  I  remember  well  Sir  Archy  Cole,  who  was  the 
General,  and  commanded  in  Stirling,  saying  to  me,  '  I 
wish,  Mrs.  Butler,  you  would  get  me  the  sick-return  off 
Wat's  table,  for  he  's  in  one  of  his  tantrums  to-day,  and  the 
adjutant  has  not  courage  to  face  him.'  Many  and  many  a 
time  I  laughed  to  myself  over  that." 

"And  did  you  tell  this  to  my  father?" 

"No,  Tony,"  said  she,  with  a  little  dry  laugh,  "I  didn't 
do  that;  the  Colonel  was  a  good  man,  and  a  God-fearing 
man;  but  if  he  had  thought  that  anything  was  said  or  done 
because  of  certain  traits  or  marks  in  his  own  nature,  he  'd 
have  been  little  better  than  a  tiger." 

Tony  pondered,  or  seemed  to  ponder,  over  her  words,  and 
sat  for  some  time  with  his  head  between  his  hands.  At 
last  he  arose  hastily,  and  said,  "I  think  I'll  go  over  to  the 
Burnside  and  see  the  doctor,  and  I  '11  take  him  that  brace  of 
birds  I  shot  to-day." 

"It's  a  cold  night,  Tony." 

"What  of  that,  mother?  If  one  waits  for  fine  weather  in 
this  climate,  I  'd  like  to  know  when  he  'd  go  out." 

"There,  you  are  railing  again,  Tony;  and  you  must  not 


238  TONY  BUTLER. 

fall  into  it  as  a  habit,  as  people  do  with  profane  swearing, 
so  that  they  cannot  utter  a  word  without  blaspheming." 

"Well,  the  country  is  beautiful;  the  weather  is  more  so; 
the  night  is  a  summer  one,  and  I  myself  am  the  most  jolly, 
light-hearted  young  fellow  from  this  to  anywhere  you  like. 
Will  that  do,  little  mother?"  and  he  threw  his  arm  around 
her,  and  kissed  her  fondly.  "They  've  got  a  colt  up  there 
at  Sir  Arthur's  that  no  one  can  break;  but  if  you  saw  him 
in  the  paddock,  you  'd  say  there  was  the  making  of  a  strong 
active  horse  in  him ;  and  Wylie,  the  head  groom,  says  he  'd 
just  let  him  alone,  for  that  some  horses  '  break  themselves.' 
Do  you  know,  mother,  I  half  suspect  I  am  myself  one  of 
these  unruly  cattle,  and  the  best  way  would  be  never  to 
put  a  cavesson  on  me  ?  " 

Mrs.  Butler  had  not  the  vaguest  conception  of  what  a  caves- 
son  meant,  but  she  said,  "I'll  not  put  that  nor  anything 
like  it  on  you,  Tony;  and  I  '11  just  believe  that  the  son  of  a 
loyal  gentleman  will  do  nothing  to  dishonor  a  good  name." 

"That's  right;  there  you've  hit  it,  mother;  now  we 
understand  each  other,"  cried  he,  boldly.  "I'm  to  tell  the 
doctor  that  we  expect  him  and  Dolly  to  dine  with  us  on 
Monday,  ain't  I?  " 

"Monday  or  Tuesday,  or  whenever  Dolly  is  well  enough 
to  come." 

"I  was  thinking  that  possibly  Skeffy  would  arrive  by 
Tuesday." 

"  So  he  might,  Tony,  and  that  would  be  nice  company  for 
him,  — the  doctor  and  Dolly." 

There  was  something  positively  comic  in  the  expression 
of  Tory's  face  as  he  heard  this  speech,  uttered  in  all  the 
simplicity  of  good  faith;  but  he  forbore  to  reply,  and, 
throwing  a  plaid  across  his  shoulders,  gave  his  habitual 
little  nod  of  good-bye,  and  went  out.  It  was  a  cold  starlit 
night,  —  far  colder  on  the  sea-shore  than  in  the  sheltered 
valleys  inland.  Tony,  however,  took  little  heed  of  this; 
his  thoughts  were  bent  upon  whither  he  was  going;  while 
between  times  his  mother's  last  words  would  flash  across 
him,  and  once  he  actually  laughed  aloud  as  he  said,  "Nice 
company  for  Skeify!  Poor  mother  little  knows  what  com- 
pany he  keeps,  and  what  fine  folk  he  lives  with." 


BESIDE   THE   HEARTH.  239 

The  minister's  cottage  lay  at  the  foot  of  a  little  hill, 
beside  a  small  stream  or  burn,  —  a  lonesome  spot  enough, 
and  more  than  usually  dreary  in  the  winter  season ;  but,  as 
Tony  drew  nigh,  he  could  make  out  the  mellow  glow  of  a 
good  fire  as  the  gleam,  stealing  between  the  ill-closed  shut- 
ters, fell  upon  the  gravel  without.  "I  suppose,"  muttered 
Tony,  "she  's  right  glad  to  be  at  home  again,  humble  as  it 
is ; "  and  then  came  another,  but  not  so  pleasant  thought, 
"But  why  did  she  come  back  so  suddenly?  why  did  she 
take  this  long  journey  in  such  a  season,  and  she  so  weak 
and  ill?  "  He  had  his  own  dark  misgivings  about  this,  but 
he  had  not  the  courage  to  face  them,  even  to  himself;  and 
now  he  crept  up  to  the  window  and  looked  in. 

A  good  fire  blazed  on  the  hearth;  and  at  one  side  of  it, 
deep  in  his  old  leather  chair,  —  the  one  piece  of  luxury  the 
room  possessed,  — the  minister  lay  fast  asleep,  while  oppo- 
site to  him,  on  a  low  stool,  sat  Dolly,  her  head  resting  on 
the  arm  of  a  chair  at  her  side.  If  her  closely  cropped  hair 
and  thin,  wan  face  gave  her  a  look  of  exceeding  youthful- 
ness,  the  thin  hand  that  hung  down  at  her  side  told  of  suffer- 
ing and  sickness.  A  book  had  fallen  from  her  fingers,  but 
her  gaze  was  bent  upon  the  burning  log  before  her  —  may- 
hap in  unconsciousness ;  mayhap  she  thought  she  read  there 
something  that  revealed  the  future. 

Lifting  the  latch  —  there  was  no  lock,  nor  was  any  needed 
—  of  the  front  door,  Tony  moved  stealthily  along  the  little 
passage,  turned  the  handle  of  the  door,  and  on  tiptoe 
moved  across  the  room,  unseen  by  Dolly,  and  unheard.  As 
his  hand  touched  the  chair  on  which  her  head  leaned,  she 
looked  up  and  saw  him.  She  did  not  start  nor  cry  out,  but 
a  deep  crimson  blush  covered  her  face  and  her  temples,  and 
spread  over  her  throat. 

"Hush I"  said  she,  in  a  whisper,  as  she  gave  him  her 
hand  without  rising;  "hush!  he's  very  tired  and  weary; 
don't  awake  him." 

"I  '11  not  awake  him,"  whispered  Tony,  as  he  slid  into  the 
chair,  still  holding  her  hand,  and  bending  down  his  head  till 
it  leaned  against  her  brow.  "And  how  are  you,  dear 
Dolly?    Are  you  getting  quite  strong  again?  " 

"Not  yet  awhile,"  said  she,  with  a   faint  shadow  of  a 


240  TONY  BUTLER. 

smile,  "but  I  suppose  I  shall  soon.  It  was  very  kind  of 
you  to  come  over  so  soon;  and  it 's  a  severe  night  too. 
How  is  Mrs.  Butler?" 

''TTell  and  hearty;  she  sent  you  scores  of  loves,  — if  it 
was  like  long  ago,  I  'd  have  said  kisses  too,"  said  he, 
laughing.  But  Dolly  never  smiled;  a  grave,  sad  look, 
indeed,  came  over  her,  and  she  turned  her  head  awa3\ 

*'  I  was  so  glad  to  hear  of  your  coming  home,  dear  Dolly. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  dreary  the  Burnside  seems  without  you. 
Ay,  pale  as  you  are,  you  make  it  look  bright  and  cheer}^  at 
once.     It  was  a  sudden  thought,  was  n't  it?  " 

"I  believe  it  was;  but  we  '11  talk  of  it  all  another  time. 
Tell  me  of  home.  Janet  says  it's  all  as  I  left  it:  is  it 
so?" 

"I  suspect  it  is.     What  changes  did  you  look  for?  " 

"I  scarcely  know.  I  believe  when  one  begins  to  brood 
over  one's  own  thoughts,  one  thinks  the  world  without 
ought  to  take  on  the  same  dull  cold  coloring.  Have  n't 
you  felt  that?" 

"I  don't  know  —  I  may;  but  I'm  not  much  given  to 
brooding.  But  how  comes  it  that  you,  the  lightest-hearted 
girl  that  ever  lived  —   What  makes  you  low-spirited  ?  " 

''First  of  all,  Tony,  I  have  been  ill;  then,  I  have  been 
away  from  home;  but  come,  I  have  n(>t  come  back  to  com- 
plain and  mourn.  Tell  me  of  your  friends  and  neighbors. 
How  are  all  at  the  Abbey?  We'll  begin  with  the  grand 
folk." 

"I  know  little  of  them;  I  have  n't  been  there  since  I  saw 
you  last." 

"And  how  is  that,  Tonj^?  You  used  to  live  at  the  Abbey 
when  I  was  here  long  ago." 

"Well,  it  is  as  I  tell  you.  Except  Alice  Trafford,  — and 
that  only  in  a  carriage,  to  exchange  a  word  as  she  passed, 
—  I  have  not  seen  one  of  the  Lyles  for  several  weeks." 

"And  didn't  she  reproach  you?  Didn't  she  remark  on 
your  estrangement?" 

"She  said  something,  —  I  forget  what,"  said  he,  impa- 
tiently. 

"And  what  sort  of  an  excuse  did  you  make?  " 

"I  don't  remember.     I  suppose  I  blundered   out   some- 


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BESIDE  THE   HEARTH.  241 

thing  about  being  engaged  or  occupied.  It  was  not  of  much 
consequence,  anyhow,  for  she  didn't  attach  any  importance 
to  my  absence." 

"Don't  say  that,  Tonj^  for  I  remember  mj^  father  saying, 
in  one  of  his  letters,  that  he  met  Sir  Arthur  at  the  fair  of 
Ballymena,  and  that  he  said,  '  If  you  should  see  Tony, 
doctor,  tell  him  I  'm  hunting  for  him  everywhere,  for  1  have 
to  buy  some  young  stock.  If  I  do  it  without  Tony  Butler's 
advice,  I  shall  have  the  whole  famil}^  upon  me.'  " 

"That's  easy  enough  to  understand.  I  was  very  useful 
and  they  were  very  kind ;  but  1  fancy  that  each  of  us  got 
tired  of  his  part." 

"They  were  stanch  and  good  friends  to  you,  Tony.  I  'm 
sorry  3'ou 've  given  them  up,"  said  she,  sorrowfully. 

"What  if  it  was  tliey  that  gave  me  up?  I  mean,  what  if 
I  found  the  conditions  upon  which  I  went  there  were  such  as 
I  could  not  stoop  to?  Don't  ask  me  any  more  about  it;  I 
have  never  let  a  word  about  it  escape  my  lips,  and  I  am 
ashamed  now  to  hear  myself  talk  of  it." 

"Even  to  me^  Tony,  — to  sister  Dolly?" 

"That's  true;  so  you  are  my  dear,  dear  sister,"  said  he, 
and  he  stooped  and  kissed  her  forehead;  "and  you  shall 
hear  it  all,  and  how  it  happened." 

Tony  began  his  narrative  of  that  passage  with  Mark 
Lyle  with  which  our  reader  is  already  acquainted,  little 
noticing  that  to  the  deep  scarlet  that  at  first  suffused 
Dolly's  cheeks,  a  leaden  pallor  had  succeeded,  and  that  she 
lay  with  half-closed  eyes,  in  utter  unconsciousness  of  what 
he  was  saying. 

"This,  of  course,"  said  Tony,  as  his  story  flowed  on,  — 
"this,  of  course,  was  more  than  I  could  bear,  so  I  hurried 
home,  not  quite  clear  what  was  best  to  be  done.  I  had  n't 
you^  Dolly,  to  consult,  you  know;  "  he  looked  down  as  he 
said  this,  and  saw  that  a  great  tear  lay  on  her  cheek,  and 
that  she  seemed  fainting.  "Dolly,  my  dear, — my  own 
dear  Dolly,"  whispered  he,  "are  you  ill,  — are  you  faint?" 

"Lay  my  head  back  against  the  wall,"  sighed  she,  in  a 
weak  voice;  "it's  passing  off." 

"It  was  this  great  fire,  I  suppose,"  said  Tony,  as  he  knelt 
down  beside  her,   and  bathed  her  temples  with  some  cold 

16 


242  TONY  BUTLER. 

water  that  stood  near.  "Coming  out  of  the  cold  air,  a  fire 
will  do  that." 

"Yes,"  said  she,  trying  to  smile,  "it  was  that." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  he,  rather  proud  of  his  acuteness. 
"Let  me  settle  you  comfortably  here;"  and  he  lifted  her 
up  in  his  strong  arms,  and  placed  her  in  the  chair  where 
he  had  been  sitting.  "Dear  me,  Dolly,  how  light  you 
are !  " 

She  shook  her  head,  but  gave  a  smile,  at  the  same  time, 
of  mingled  melancholy  and  sweetness. 

"I  'd  never  have  believed  you  could  be  so  light;  but  you  '11 
see  what  home  and  native  air  will  do,"  added  he,  quickly, 
and  ashamed  of  his  own  want  of  tact.  "My  little  mother, 
too,  is  such  a  nurse,  I  '11  be  sworn  that  before  a  month  's  over 
you  '11  be  skipping  over  the  rocks,  or  helping  me  to  launch 
the  coble,  like  long  ago,  — won't  you,  Dolly?  " 

"Go  on  with  what  you  were  telling  me,"  said  she, 
faintly. 

"Where  was  I?  I  forget  where  I  stopped.  Oh,  yes;  I 
remember  it  now.  I  went  home  as  quick  as  I  could,  and  I 
wrote  Mark  Lyle  a  letter.  1  know  you  '11  laugh  at  the 
notion  of  a  letter  by  my  hand;  but  I  think  I  said  what  I 
wanted  to  say.  I  did  n't  want  to  disclaim  all  that  I  owed 
his  family;  indeed  I  never  felt  so  deeply  the  kindness 
they  had  shown  me  as  at  the  moment  I  was  relinquishing  it 
forever;  but  I  told  him  that  if  he  presumed,  on  the  score 
of  that  feeling,  to  treat  me  like  some  humble  hanger-on  of 
his  house,  I  'd  beg  to  remind  him  that  by  birth  at  least 
I  was  fully  his  equal.  That  was  the  substance  of  it,  but  I 
won't  say  that  it  was  conveyed  in  the  purest  and  best  st^'le." 

"What  did  he  reply?" 

"Nothing,  —  not  one  line.  I  ought  to  say  that  I  started 
for  England  almost  immediately  after;  but  he  took  no 
notice  of  me  when  I  came  back,  and  we  never  met  since." 

"And  his  sisters,  — do  you  suspect  that  they  know  of  this 
letter  of  yours?  " 

"I  cannot  tell,  but  I  suppose  not.  It's  not  likely  Mark 
would  speak  of  it." 

"  How,  then,  do  they  regard  your  abstaining  from  calling 
there?" 


BESIDE  THE   HEARTH.  243 

"As  a  caprice,  I  suppose.  They  always  thought  me  a 
wayward,  uncertain  sort  of  fellow.  It's  a  habit  your  well- 
off  people  have,  to  look  on  their  poorer  friends  as  queer  and 
odd  and  eccentric,  —  eh,  Dolly?" 

"There's  some  truth  in  tlie  remark,  Tony,"  said  she, 
smiling;  "  but  I  scarcely  expected  to  hear  you  come  out  as 
a  moralist." 

"That's  because,  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  you  don't 
estimate  me  at  my  true  value.  I  have  a  great  vein  of 
reflection  or  reflectiveness  —  which  is  it,  Dolly?  but  it's  the 
deepest  of  the  two  —  in  me,  if  people  only  knew  it." 

"  You  have  a  great  vein  of  kind-heartedness,  and  you  are 
a  good  son  to  a  good  mother,"  said  she,  as  a  pink  blush 
tinged  her  cheek,   "  and  I  like  that  better." 

It  was  plain  that  the  praise  had  touched  him,  and  deeply 
too,  for  he  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes,  and  his  lip  trem- 
bled as  he  said,  "  It  was  just  about  that  dear  mother  I 
wanted  to  speak  to  you,  Dolly.  You  know  I'm  going 
away  ?  " 

"  My  father  told  me,"  said  she,  with  a  nod  of  her  head. 

"  And  though,  of  course,  I  may  manage  a  short  leave  now 
and  then  to  come  over  and  see  her,  she  '11  be  greatly  alone. 
Now,  Dolly,  you  know  how  she  loves  j^ou,  —  how  happy  she 
always  is  when  you  come  over  to  us.  Will  you  promise  me 
that  you'll  often  do  so?  You  used  to  think  nothing  of  the 
walk  long  ago,  and  when  you  get  strong  and  hearty  again, 
you  '11  not  think  more  of  it.  It  would  be  such  a  comfort  to 
me,  when  I  am  far  away,  to  feel  that  you  were  sitting  beside 
her,  —  reading  to  her,  perhaps,  or  settling  those  flowers 
she's  so  fond  of.  Ah,  Dolly,  I'll  have  that  window  that 
looks  out  on  the  white  rocks  in  my  mind,  and  you  sitting  at 
it,  many  and  many  a  day,  when  I  '11  be  hundreds  of  miles 
off." 

"I  love  your  mother  dearly,  Tony;  she  has  been  like  a 
mother  to  myself  for  many  a  year,  and  it  would  be  a  great 
happiness  to  me  to  be  with  her ;  but  don't  forget,  Tony,"  — 
and  she  tried  to  smile  as  she  spoke,  —  "don't  forget  that 
I'll  have  to  go  seek  my  fortune  also." 

"  And  are  n't  you  come  to  live  at  home  now  for  good?  " 
She  shook  her  head  with  a  sorrowful  meaning,  and  said : 


244  TONY  BUTLER. 

"I'm  afraid  not,  Tony.  My  dear,  dear  father  does  not 
grow  richer  as  he  grows  older,  and  he  needs  many  a  little 
comfort  that  cannot  come  of  his  own  providing,  and  you 
know  he  has  none  but  me." 

The  intense  sadness  of  the  last  few  words  were  deepened 
by  the  swimming  eyes  and  faltering  lips  of  her  that  uttered 
them. 

"  And  are  you  going  back  to  these  M'Gruders?  " 

She  shook  her  head  in  negative. 

"  I  'm  glad  of  that.     I  'm  sure  they  were  not  kind." 

"  Nay,  Tony,  they  were  good  folk,  but  after  their  own 
fashion ;  and  they  always  strove  to  be  just." 

"  Another  word  for  being  cruel.  I  'd  like  to  know  what 's 
to  become  of  any  of  us  in  this  world  if  we  meet  nothing 
better  than  justice.  But  why  did  you  leave  them?  —  I  mean 
leave  them  for  good  and  all." 

She  changed  color  hastily,  and  turned  her  head  away, 
while  in  a  low  confused  manner  she  said:  "There  were 
several  reasons.  I  need  n't  tell  you  I  was  n't  strong,  Tony, 
and  strength  is  the  first  element  of  governess  life." 

"  I  know  how  it  came  about,"  broke  in  Tony.  "  Don't 
deny  it,  —  don't,  Dolly.     It  was  all  my  fault." 

"  Don't  speak  so  loud,"  whispered  she,  cautiously. 

"  It  all  came  of  that  night  I  dined  at  Richmond.  But  if 
he  had  n't  struck  at  me  —  " 

"Who  struck  at  you,  Tony,  my  man?"  said  the  old 
minister,  waking  up.  "  He  wasna  over-gifted  with  prudence 
whoever  did  it,  that  I  maun  say ;  and  how  is  Mrs.  Butler 
and  how  are  you  yourself?  " 

"  Bravely,  sir,  both  of  us.  I've  had  a  long  chat  with 
Dolly  over  the  fire,  and  I  fear  I  must  be  going  now.  I  Ve 
brought  you  a  brace  of  woodcocks,  and  a  message  from  my 
mother  about  not  forgetting  to  dine  with  us  on  Monday." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  Tony.  The  lassie  yonder  is 
very  weak  just  yet." 

"But  after  a  little  rest,  eh,  Dolly?  Don't  you  think 
you  'd  be  strong  enough  to  stroll  over  by  Monday  ?  Then 
Tuesday  be  it." 

"  We  '11  bide  and  see,  Tony,  —  we  '11  bide  and  see.  I'll 
be  able,  perhaps,  to  tell  you  after  meeting  to-morrow ;  not 


BESIDE   THE   HEARTH.  245 

that  You're  very  reg'lar  in  attendance,  Maister  Tony;  I 
mean  to  have  a  word  or  two  with  you  about  that  one  of 
these  days." 

"All  right,  sir."  said  Tony.  "If  you  and  Dolly  come 
over  to  us  on  Monday,  you  may  put  me  on  the  cutty-stool  if 
you  like  afterwards ;  "  and  with  that  he  was  gone. 

'•And  all  this  has  been  my  doing."  thought  Tony,  as  he 
wended  his  way  homewards.  **  I  have  lost  to  this  poor  girl 
the  means  by  which  she  was  earning  her  own  livelihood,  and 
aiding  to  make  her  father's  life  more  comfortable !  I  must 
make  her  tell  me  how  it  all  came  about,  and  why  they  made 
her  pav  the  penalty  of  my  fault.  Not  very  fair  that  for 
people  so  just  as  they  are."  '*  And  to  think,"  added  he, 
aloud,  after  a  pause.  —  "to  think  it  was  but  the  other  day  I 
was  saying  to  myself,  '  What  can  people  mean  w^hen  they 
talk  of  this  weary  world,  —  this  life  of  care  and  toil  and 
anxiety?  '  — and  already  I  feel  as  if  I  stood  on  the  threshold, 
and  peeped  in,  and  saw  it  all ;  but,  to  be  sure,  at  that  time  I 
was  cantering  along  the  strand  with  Alice,  and  now  —  and 
now  I  am  plodding  along  a  dark  road,  with  a  hot  brain  and 
a  heavy  heart,  to  tell  me  that  sorrow  is  sown  broadcast,  and 
none  can  escape  it." 

All  was  still  at  the  cottage  when  he  reached  it.  and  he 
crept  gently  to  his  room,  and  was  soon  asleep,  forgetting 
cares  and  gi'iefs.  and  only  awaking  as  the  strong  sunlight 
fell  upon  his  face  and  proclaimed  the  morning. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

AN    UNWELCOME    LETTER. 

The  doctor  had  guessed  aright.  Tony  did  not  present  him- 
self at  meeting  on  Sunday.  Mrs.  Butler,  indeed,  was  there, 
though  the  distance  was  more  than  a  mile,  and  the  day  a 
raw  and  gusty  one,  with  threatenings  of  snow  in  the  air. 

"Are  you  coming  with  me,  Tony,  to  hear  the  minister? 
It  will  be  an  interesting  lecture  to-day  on  the  character  of 
Ahab,"  said  she,  opening  his  door  a  few  inches. 

''I'm  afraid  not,  mother;  I'm  in  for  a  hard  day's  work 
this  morning.     Better  lose  Ahab  than  lose  my  examination." 

Mrs.  Butler  did  not  approve  of  the  remark,  but  she  closed 
the  door  and  went  her  way,  while  Tony  covered  his  table 
with  a  mass  of  books,  arranged  paper  and  pens,  and  then, 
filling  the  bowl  of  a  large  Turkish  pipe,  sat  himself  down,  as 
he  fancied,  to  work,  but  in  reality  to  weave  thoughts  about 
as  profitable  and  as  connected  as  the  thin  blue  wreaths  of 
smoke  that  issued  from  his  lips,  and  in  watching  whose  way- 
ward curls  and  waftings  he  continued  to  pass  hours. 

I  have  often  suspected  —  indeed,  my  experience  of  life 
leads  me  much  to  the  conviction  —  that  for  the  perfect  enjo}^- 
ment  of  what  is  called  one's  own  company,  the  man  of 
many  resources  must  yield  the  palm  to  him  of  none ;  and 
that  the  mere  man  of  action,  whose  existence  is  stir,  move- 
ment, and  adventure,  can  and  does  find  his  occasional  hours 
of  solitude  more  pleasurable  than  he  who  brings  to  his  reve- 
ries the  tormenting  doubts  and  distrusts,  the  casuistical 
indecisions,  and  the  dreary  discontents,  that  so  often  come  of 
much  reading.  Certainly  in  the  former  there  is  no  strain,  — 
no  wear  and  tear.  He  is  not  called  on  to  breast  the  waves 
and  stem  the  tide,  but  to  float  indolently  down  the  stream 
without  even  remarking  the  scenery  that  clothes  the  banks. 


AN  UNWELCOME   LETTER.  247 

Tony,  I  fancy,  was  a  master  of  this  art ;  he  knew  how  to 
follow  up  any  subject  in  thought  till  it  began  to  become 
painful,  and  then  to  turn  his  attention  to  the  sea  and  some 
far-off  white  sail,  or  to  the  flickering  leaflet  of  falling  snow, 
tossed  and  drifted  here  and  there  like  some  castaway,  —  a 
never- failing  resource.  He  could  follow  with  his  eyes  the 
azure  circles  of  smoke,  and  wonder  which  would  outstrip 
the  other.  To  fit  him  for  the  life  of  a  ''  messenger,"  he  had 
taken  down  "Cook's  Voyages;"  but  after  reading  a  few 
pages,  he  laid  down  the  book  to  think  how  far  the  voyager's 
experiences  could  apply  to  the  daily  exigencies  of  a  Foreign 
Office  official,  and  to  ask  himself  if  he  were  not  in  reality 
laying  down  too  wide  and  too  extensive  a  foundation  for 
future  acquirement.  "  No,"  thought  he,  "  I  '11  not  try  to  be 
any  better  or  smarter  than  the  rest.  I  '11  just  stick  to  the 
practical  part,  and  here  goes  for  Ollendorf."  Three  or  four 
sentences  read,  —  he  leaned  back,  and  wondered  whether  he 
would  not  rather  undertake  an  excursion  on  foot  to  Jeru- 
salem than  set  out  on  an  expedition  into  the  French  lan- 
guage. As  if  a  whole  life  could  master  that  bulky  diction- 
ary, and  transfer  its  contents  to  his  poor  brain !  To  be 
sure,  Alice  knew  it ;  but  Alice  could  learn  what  she  pleased. 
She  learned  to  skate  in  three  lessons,  —  and  how  she  did  it 
too !  Who  ever  glided  over  the  ice  with  such  a  grace,  —  so 
easy,  so  quiet,  but  with  such  a  perfection  of  movement! 
Talk  of  dancing,  —  it  was  notliing  to  it.  And  could  n't  she 
ride?  See  her  three  fields  off.  and  you'd  know  the  ground 
just  by  the  stride  of  her  horse.  Such  a  hand  she  had ! 
But  who  was  like  Alice? 

Ah !  there  was  the  boundless  prairie,  to  his  thoughts,  on 
which  he  might  ramble  forever ;  and  on  that  wide  swelling 
savannah,  roaming  and  straying,  we  shall  now  leave  him, 
and  turn  our  glance  elsewhere. 

The  morning  service  of  the  meeting-house  over,  Dr, 
Stewart  proposed  to  walk  home  with  Mrs.  Butler.  The 
exposition  about  Ahab  had  neither  been  as  full  or  as  able 
as  he  had  intended,  but  it  was  not  his  fault,  —  at  least, 
only  in  part  his  fault ;  the  sum  of  which  consisted  in  the 
fact  that  he  had  broken  through  a  good  rule,  which  up  to 
that  hour  had  never  met  with  infraction,  —  he  had   opened 


248  TONY  BUTLER. 

a  post-letter  on  the  Sabbath-morn.  "This  comes,"  said 
he,  plaintively,  "of  letting  the  siufu'  things  of  this  warld 
mingle  wi'  the  holier  and  higher  ones  of  the  warld  to  come. 
Corruption  is  aye  stronger  than  life ;  and  now  I  maun  tell 
you  the  whole  of  it."  If  we  do  not  strictly  follow  the  good 
minister,  and  tell  what  he  had  to  say  in  his  own  words,  it  is 
to  spare  our  reader  some  time  on  a  matter  which  may  not 
possess  the  amount  of  interest  to  him  it  had  for  the  person 
who  narrated  it.  The  matter  was  this :  there  came  that 
morning  a  letter  from  Mrs.  M'Gruder  to  Dr.  Stewart, — a 
letter  that  almost  overwhelmed  him.  The  compensation  to 
humility  of  station  is  generally  this,  that  the  interests  of 
the  humble  man  are  so  lowly,  so  unpretending,  and  so 
little  obtrusive  that  they  seldom  or  never  provoke  the 
attention  of  his  more  fortunate  neighbors.  As  with  the 
rivulet  that  can  neither  float  a  barque  nor  turn  a  mill- 
wheel  none  meddles,  so  with  the  course  of  these  lowly 
lives  few  concern  themselves,  and  they  ripple  along  un- 
heeded. Many  and  many  a  time  had  the  old  minister 
hugged  this  thought  to  his  heart,  —  many  and  many  a 
time  had  he  felt  that  there  were  cares  and  troubles  in  this 
life  so  proud  and  so  haughty  that  they  disdained  the 
thatched  cabin  and  the  humble  roof-tree,  but  loved  to 
push  their  way  through  crowds  of  courtiers  up  marble 
stairs  and  along  gilded  corridors.  It  was  then  with  a 
perfect  shock  that  he  came  to  learn  that  even  they,  in  all 
their  lowliness,  could  claim  no  exemption  from  common 
calamity.  The  letter  began  by  stating  that  the  writer, 
before  putting  pen  to  paper,  had  waited  till  Miss  Stewart 
should  have  reached  her  home,  so  that  no  anxieties  as  to 
her  health  should  be  added  to  the  pain  the  communication 
might  cause.  After  this  louring  commencement  the  epistle 
went  on  to  state  that  the  satisfaction  which  Dolly  had  at 
first  given  by  her  general  good  temper  and  strict  attention 
to  her  duties,  "compensating  in  a  great  measure  for  the 
defects  in  her  own  education  and  want  of  aptitude  as  a 
teacher,"  soon  ceased  to  be  experienced,  as  it  was  found 
that  she  was  subject  to  constant  intervals  of  great  depres- 
sion, and  even  whole  days,  when  she  seemed  scarcely  equal 
to  her  duties.      The   cause   was   not   very  long    a    secret. 


AN  UNWELCOME  LETTER.  249 

It  was  an  attachment  she  had  formed  to  a  brother  of  Mr. 
M'Gruder's,  who,  some  years  younger  than  hmiself,  had 
been  established  m  Italy  as  a  partner,  and  had  now  come 
over  to  England  on  business. 

It  was  not  necessary  to  say  that  the  writer  had  never 
encouraged  this  sentiment ;  on  the  contrary,  she  had  more 
than  remonstrated  with  her  brother-in-law  on  the  score  of 
his  attentions,  and  flatly  declared  that,  if  he  persisted,  she 
would  do  her  utmost  to  have  the  partnership  with  his 
brother  dissolved,  and  all  future  intercourse  at  'an  end 
between  them.  This  led  to  scenes  of  a  very  violent  nature, 
in  which  she  was  obliged  to  own  her  husband  had  the 
cruelty  to  take  his  brother's  side  against  her,  and  avow 
that  Samuel  was  earning  his  own  bread,  and  if  he  liked 
to  share  it  with  an  "  untochered  lassie,"  it  should  be  far 
from  him,  Robert  M'Gruder,  that  any  reproach  should 
come, — a  sarcasm  that  Mrs.  M'Gruder  seemed  keenly  to 
appreciate. 

The  agitation  caused  by  these  cares,  acting  on  a  system ' 
already  excited,  had  brought  on  a  fever  to  Dolly ;  and  it 
was  only  on  her  convalescence,  and  while  still  very  weak,  that 
a  young  man  arrived  in  London  and  called  to  see  her,  who 
suddenly  seemed  to  influence  all  her  thoughts  and  plans 
for  the  future.  Sam,  it  appeared,  had  gone  back  to  Italy, 
relying  on  Dolly's  promise  to  consult  her  father  and  give 
him  a  final  reply  to  his  offer  of  marriage.  From  the  day, 
however,  that  this  stranger  had  called,  Dolly  seemed  to  be- 
come more  and  more  indifferent  to  this  project,  declaring  that 
her  failing  health  and  broken  spirits  would  render  her  rather 
a  burden  than  a  benefit,  and  constantly  speaking  of  home, 
and  wishing  to  be  back  there.  "  Though  I  wished,"  con- 
tinued the  writer,  "that  this  resolve  had  come  earlier,  and 
that  Miss  Stewart  had  returned  to  her  father  before  she 
had  thrown  discord  into  a  united  family,  I  was  not  going 
to  oppose  it,  even  late  as  it  occurred.  It  was  therefore 
arranged  that  she  was  to  go  home,  ostensibly  to  recruit 
and  restore  herself  in  her  native  air ;  but  I,  I  need  hardly 
tell  you,  as  firmly  determined  she  should  never  pass  this 
threshold  again,  blatters  were  in  this  state,  and  Miss  Stew- 
art only  waiting  for  a  favorable  day  to  begin  her  journey  — 


250  TONY  BUTLER. 

an  event  I  looked  for  with  the  more  impatience  as  Mr. 
M'G.  and  myself  could  never,  I  knew,  resume  our  terms  of 
affection  so  long  as  she  remained  in  our  house, — when  one 
night,  between  one  and  two  o'clock,  we  were  awoke  by  the 
sound  of  feet  in  the  garden  under  our  window.  I  heard 
them  first,  and,  creeping  to  the  casement,  I  saw  a  figure 
clamber  over  the  railing  and  make  straight  for  the  end  of 
the  house  where  Miss  Stewart  slept,  and  immediately  begin 
a  sort  of  low  moaning  kind  of  song,  evidently  a  signal. 
Miss  Stewart's  window  soon  opened,  and  on  this  I  called 
Mr.  M'Gruder.  He  had  barely  time  to  reach  the  window, 
when  a  man's  voice  from  below  cried  out,  '  Come  down ; 
are  you  coming?'  On  this,  Mr.  M'Gruder  rushed  down- 
stairs and  into  the  garden.  Two  or  three  loud  and  angry 
words  succeeded,  and  then  a  violent  struggle,  in  which  my 
husband  was  twice  knocked  down  and  severely  injured. 
The  man,  however,  made  his  escape,  but  not  unrecognized ; 
for  your  daughter's  voice  cried  out,  '  Oh,  Tony,  I  never 
thought  you  'd  do  this,'  or,  '  Why  did  you  do  this? '  or  some 
words  to  that  effect. 

"  The  terms  on  which,  through  Miss  Stewart's  behavior, 
I  have  latterly  lived  with  Mr.  M'Gruder,  gave  me  no  oppor- 
tunity to  learn  anything  from  him.  Indeed,  he  never  so 
much  as  spoke  of  an  incident  which  confined  him  two  days 
to  his  room  and  five  days  to  the  house ;  but,  as  if  bent  on 
exasperation,  redoubled  his  kind  inquiries  about  your  daugh- 
ter, who  was  now,  as  she  said,  too  ill  to  leave  her  room. 

*'  No  other  course  was  then  open  to  me  than  to  write 
the  present  letter  to  you  and  another  to  my  brother-in-law. 
He,  at  least,  I  am  determined,  shall  know  something  of  the 
young  lady  with  whom  he  wishes  to  share  his  fortune,  though 
I  trust  that  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  will  have  no  need  of 
any  promptings  of  mine  to  prevent  such  a  casualty.  ]My 
last  words,  on  parting  with  your  daughter,  were  to  ask  if 
the  man  I  saw  that  night  was  the  same  who  had  called  to 
see  her,  and  her  reply  was,  '  Yes,  the  same.'  I  will  not 
disguise  that  she  had  the  grace  to  cry  as  she  said  it. 

"That  she  is  never  to  return  here,  I  need  not  sa3\  Ay, 
more  than  that ;  no  reference  to  me  will  be  responded  to 
in  terms  that  can  serve  her.     But  this  is  not  all.     I  require 


AN   UNWELCOME  LETTER.  251 

that  you  will  send,  and  send  open  for  m}"  inspection,  such 
a  letter  to  Mr.  S.  M'Gruder  as  may  finally  put  an  end  to 
any  engagement,  and  declare  that,  from  the  circumstances 
now  known  to  you,  you  could  neither  expect,  or  even  desire, 
that  he  would  make  her  his  wife.  Lastly,  I  demand  —  and 
I  am  in  a  position  to  enforce  a  demand  —  that  you  do  not 
communicate  with  my  husband  at  all  in  this  affair ;  sufficient 
unpleasantness  and  distrust  having  been  already  caused  by 
our  unhappy  relations  with  your  family." 

A  few  moral  reflections  closed  the  epistle.  They  were 
neither  very  novel  nor  very  acute,  but  they  embodied  the 
sense  of  disapppointment  experienced  by  one  who  little 
thought,  in  taking  a  teacher  from  the  manse  of  a  minister, 
she  was  incurring  a  peril  as  great  as  if  she  had  sent  over 
to  France  for  the  latest  refinement  in  Parisian  depravity. 
"Keep  her  at  home  with  yourself,  Dr.  Stewart,"  wrote  she, 
"  unless  the  time  comes  when  the  creature  she  called  Tony 
may  turn  up  as  a  respectable  man,  and  be  willing  to  take 
her."  And  with  a  gracefully  expressed  hope  that  Dolly's 
ill  health  might  prove  seasonable  for  self-examination  and 
correction,  she  signed  herself,  "  Your  compassionate  friend, 
Martha  M'Gruder." 

"What  do  you  say  to  that,  Mrs.  Butler?  Did  ever  you 
read  as  much  cruelty  in  pen  and  ink,  I  ask  you?  Did 
you  ever  believe  that  the  mother  of  children  could  write  to 
a  father  of  his  own  daughter  in  such  terms  as  these  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  what  it  means,  doctor;  it's  all  confusion 
to  me.     Who  is  Tony?     It's  not  our  Tony,  surely?" 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  Mrs.  Butler.  Tony  was  up 
in  London  and  he  called  to  see  Dolly.  You  remember  that 
he  told  in  his  letter  to  you  how  the  puir  lassie's  hair  was 
cut  short  —  " 

"  I  remember  it  all,  Dr.  Stewart ;  but  what  has  all  that  to 
do  with  all  this  dreadful  scene  at  night  in  the  garden?" 
The  doctor  shook  his  head  mournfully,  and  made  no  reply. 
"If  you  mean.  Dr.  Stewart,  that  it  was  my  Tony  that 
brought  about  all  these  disasters,  I  tell  you  I  will  not  —  I 
cannot  believe  it.  It  would  be  better  to  speak  your  mind 
out,  sir,  than  to  go  on  shaking  your  head.  We  're  not 
altogether  so  depraved  that  our  disgrace  is  be3'ond  words." 


252  TONY  BUTLER. 

''There's  nothing  for  anger  here,  my  dear  old  friend," 
said  he,  calmly,  "though  maybe  there's  something  for  sor- 
row. When  you  have  spoken  to  your  son,  and  I  to  my 
daughter,  y^e  '11  see  our  way  better  through  this  thorny  path. 
Good-bye." 

"  You  are  not  angry  with  me,  doctor?  "  said  she,  holding 
out  her  hand,  while  her  eyes  were  dimmed  with  tears,  — 
"■you  are  not  angry  with  me?" 

"That  I  am  not,"  said  he,  grasping  her  hand  warml}-  in 
both  his  own.  "  We  have  no  other  treasures  in  this  world, 
either  of  us,  than  this  lad  and  this  lassie,  and  it 's  a  small 
fault  if  we  cling  to  them  the  more  closely.  I  think  I  see 
Tony  coming  to  meet  you,  so  I'll  just  turn  home  again." 
And  with  another  and  more  affectionate  good-bye,  they 
parted. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


AT    THE    MANSE. 


In  no  small  perturbation  of  mind  was  it  that  Mrs.  Butlei 
passed  her  threshold.  That  a  word  should  be  breathed 
against  her  Tony,  was  something  more  than  she  could  en- 
dure ;  that  he  could  have  deserved  it,  was  more  than  she 
could  believe.  Tony,  of  whom  for  years  and  years  she  had 
listened  to  nothing  but  flatteries,  how  clever  and  ready- 
witted  he, was,  how  bold  and  fearless,  how  kind-hearted, 
and  how  truthful,  —  ay,  how  truthful !  and  how  is  it  then, 
asked  she  of  herself,  that  he  has  told  me  nothing  of  all  this 
mischance,  and  what  share  he  has  had  in  bringing  misfortune 
upon  poor  Dolly? 

"Is  Master  Tony  at  home,  Jenny?"  said  she,  as  she 
entered. 

''Yes;  he's  reading  a  letter  that  has  just  come  wi'  the 
post." 

The  old  lady  stopped,  with  her  hand  on  the  handle  of 
the  door,  to  draw  a  full  breath,  and  regain  a  calm  look ;  but 
a  merry  laugh  from  Tony,  as  he  sat  reading  his  letter,  did 
more  to  rally  her,  though  her  heart  smote  her  to  think  how 
soon  she  might  have  to  throw  a  shadow  across  his  sunshine. 

"  AYho's  your  letter  from,  Tony?"  said  she,  dryly. 

"  From  Skeffy ;  he'll  be  here  to-morrow;  he's  to  arrive 
at  Coleraine  by  six  in  the  morning,  and  wants  me  to  meet 
him  there." 

"  And  what 's  the  other  sealed  note  in  your  hand?  " 

"This?  —  this  is  from  another  man,  —  a  fellow  you've 
never  heard  of;   at  least,  you  don't  know  him." 

"And  what  may  be  his  name,  Tony?"  asked  she,  in  a 
still  colder  tone. 

"He's  a  stranger  to  you,  mother.  Skeffy  found  the  note 
at  my  hotel,  and  forwarded  it,  —  that 's  all." 


254  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  You  were  n't  wont  to  have  secrets  from  me,  Tony,"  said 
she,  tremulously. 

*'Nor  have  I,  mother;  except  it  may  be  some  trifling 
annoyance  or  worry  that  I  don't  care  to  tease  you  about. 
If  I  had  anything  heavier  on  my  mind,  you  may  trust  me, 
I'd  very  soon  be  out  with  it." 

"But  I  'm  not  to  hear  who  this  man  is?  "  said  she,  with  a 
strange  pertinacity. 

"Of  course  you  are,  if  you  want  to  hear;  his  name  is 
there,  on  the  corner  of  his  note,  — ■  Robt.  M'Gruder,  —  and 
here  's  the  inside  of  it,  though  I  don't  think  you  '11  be  much 
the  wiser  when  you  've  read  it." 

"It 's  for  yourself  to  read  your  own  letter,  Tony,"  said 
she,  waving  back  the  note.  "I  merely  asked  who  was 
your  correspondent." 

Tony  broke  the  seal,  and  ran  his  eye  hastily  over  the 
lines.  "I  'm  as  glad  as  if  1  got  a  hundred  pounds!  "  cried 
he.     "Listen  to  this,  mother:  — 

"  '  Dear  Sir,  —  When  I  received  your  note  on  Monday  — ' 

"But  wait  a  bit,  mother;  I  must  tell  you  the  whole  story, 
or  you  '11  not  know  why  he  wrote  this  to  me.  Do  you 
remember  my  telling  you,  just  at  the  back  of  a  letter,  that 
I  was  carried  off  to  a  dinner  at  Richmond?  " 

"Yes,  perfectly." 

"Well,  I  wish  I  hadn't  gone,  that's  all.  Not  that  it 
was  n't  jolly,  and  the  fellows  very  pleasant  and  full  of  fun, 
but  somehow  we  all  of  us  took  too  much  wine,  or  we  talked 
too  much,  or  perhaps  both;  but  we  began  laying  wagers 
about  every  imaginable  thing,  and  I  made  a  bet,  —  I  '11  be 
hanged  if  I  could  tell  what  it  was;  but  it  was  something 
about  Dolly  Stewart.  I  believe  it  was  that  she  was  hand- 
somer than  another  girl.  I  forgot  all  about  her  hair  being 
cut  off,  and  her  changed  looks.  At  all  events,  off  we  set  in 
a  body,  to  M'Gruder's  house.  It  was  then  about  two  in 
the  morning,  and  we  all  singing,  or  what  we  thought  was 
singing,  most  uproariously.  Yes,  you  may  shake  your 
head.  I  'm  ashamed  of  it  now,  too,  but  it  was  some  strange 
wine  —  I  think  it  was  called  Marcobrunner  —  that  completely 
upset  me;  and  the  first  thing  that  really  sobered  me  was 


AT   THE   MANSE.  255 

seeing  that  the  other  fellows  ran  away,  leaving  me  all  alone 
in  the  garden,  while  a  short  stout  man  rushed  out  of  the 
house  with  a  stick  to  thrash  me.  I  tried  to  make  him  hear 
me,  for  I  wanted  to  apologize;  but  he  wouldn't  listen,  and 
so  I  gave  him  a  shake.  I  didn't  strike  him;  but  I  shook 
him  off,  roughly  enough  perhaps,  for  he  fell,  and  then  I 
sprang  over  the  gate,  and  cut  off  as  fast  as  I  could.  When 
I  awoke  next  morning,  I  remembered  it  all,  and  heartily 
ashamed  I  was  of  myself;  and  I  thought  that  perhaps  I 
ought  to  go  out  in  person  and  beg  his  pardon ;  but  1  had  no 
time  for  that;  I  wanted  to  get  away  by  that  day's  packet, 
and  so  I  wrote  him  a  few  civil  lines.  I  don't  remember 
them  exactly,  but  they  were  to  say  that  I  was  very  sorry 
for  it  all,  and  I  hoped  he  'd  see  the  thing  as  it  was,  —  a 
stupid  bit  of  boyish  excess,  of  which  I  felt  much  ashamed; 
and  here  's  his  answer:  — 

"  '  Dear  Sir,  —  When  I  received  your  note  on  Monday  morning, 
I  was  having  leeches  to  my  eye,  and  could  n't  answer  it.  Yesterday 
both  eyes  were  closed,  and  it  is  only  to-day  that  I  can  see  to  scratch 
these  lines.  If  I  had  had  a  little  more  patience  on  the  night  I  first 
met  you,  it  would  have  been  better  for  both  of  us.  As  it  is,  1  re- 
ceive all  your  explanation  as  frankly  as  it  is  given  ;  and  you  '11  be 
lucky  in  life  if  nobody  bears  you  more  ill-will  than  —  Yours  truly, 

'  RoBT.  M'  Gruder. 

"  'If  you  come  up  to  town  again,  look  in  on  me  at  27  Cannon 
Street,  City.  1  do  not  say  here,  as  Mrs.  M'G,  has  not  yet  forgiven 
the  black  eye.' " 

"Oh,  Tony!  my  own,  dear,  dear,  true-hearted  Tony!" 
cried  his  mother,  as  she  flung  her  arms  around  him,  and 
hugged  him  to  her  heart.  "I  knew  my  own  dear  boy  was 
as  loyal  as  his  own  high-hearted  father." 

Tony  was  exceedingly  puzzled  to  what  precise  part  of  his 
late  behavior  be  owned  all  this  enthusiastic  fondness,  and 
was  curious  also  to  know  if  giving  black  eyes  to  Scotch- 
men had  been  a  trait  of  his  father's. 

"And  this  was  all  of  it,  Tony?"  asked  she,  eagerly. 

"Don't  you  think  it  was  quite  enough?  I'm  certain 
Dolly  did;  for  she  knew  my  voice,  and  cried  out,  '  Oh, 
Tony,    how   could  you?  '  or  something  like  that  from  the 


256  TONY  BUTLER. 

window.  And  that's  a  thing,  mother,  has  been  weighing 
heavily  on  my  mind  ever  since.  Has  this  unlucky  freak  of 
mine  anything  to  do  with  Dolly's  coming  home?" 

"We  '11  find  that  out  later  on,  Tony;  leave  that  to  me," 
said  she,  hurriedly ;  for  with  all  her  honesty,  she  could  not 
bear  to  throw  a  cloud  over  his  present  happiness,  or  dash 
with  sorrow  the  delight  he  felt  at  his  friend's  coming. 

"I  don't  suspect,"  continued  he,  thoughtfully,  ''that  I 
made  a  very  successful  impression  on  that  Mrs.  M'Gruder 
the  day  I  called  on  Dolly;  and  if  she  only  connected  me 
with  this  night's  exploit,  of  course  it 's  all  up  with  me." 

"Her  husband  bears  you  no  grudge  for  it  at  all,  Tony." 

"That 's  clear  enough;  he  's  a  fine  fellow;  but  if  it  should 
turn  out,  mother,  that  poor  Dolly  lost  her  situation,  —  it  was 
no  great  thing,  to  be  sure;  but  she  told  me  herself,  it  was 
hard  enough  to  get  as  good ;  and  if,  I  say,  it  was  through 
me  she  lost  it  —  " 

"You  mustn't  give  yourself  the  habit  of  coining  evil, 
Tony.  There  are  always  enough  of  hard  and  solid  troubles 
in  life  without  our  conjuring  up  shadows  and  spectres  to 
frighten  us.  As  I  said  before,  I  '11  have  a  talk  with  Dolly 
herself,  and  I  '11  find  out  everything." 

"Do  so,  mother;  and  try  and  make  her  come  often  over 
here  when  I'm  gone;  she'll  be  very  lonely  yonder,  and 
you  '11  be  such  good  company  for  each  other,  won't  you?  " 

"I  '11  do  my  best,  for  I  love  her  dearly!  She  has  so  many 
ways,  too,  that  suit  an  old  body  like  myself.  She  's  so 
quiet  and  so  gentle,  and  she  '11  sit  over  her  work  at  the 
window  there,  and  lay  it  down  on  her  knee  to  look  out  over 
the  sea,  never  saying  a  word,  but  smiling  a  little  quiet 
smile  when  our  eyes  meet,  as  though  to  sa}^  '  This  is  very 
peaceful  and  happy,  and  we  have  no  need  to  tell  each  other 
about  it,  for  we  can  feel  it  just  as  deeply.'  " 

Oh,  if  she  'd  only  let  Alice  come  to  see  her  and  sit  with 
her,  thouoht  Tony;  how  she  would  love  her!  Alice  could 
be  all  this,  and  would,  too;  and  then,  what  a  charm  she 
can  throw  around  her  with  that  winning  smile!  Was  there 
ever  sunshine  like  it?  And  her  voice  —  no  music  ever 
thrilled  through  me  as  that  voice  did.  "I  say,  mother," 
cried  he,  aloud,  "don't  say  No;  don't  refuse  her  if  she  begs 


AT  THE   MANSE.  257 

to  come  over  now  and  then  with  a  book  or  a  few  flowers ; 
don't  deny  her  merely  because  she  's  very  rich  and  much 
courted  and  flattered.  I  j^ledge  you  my  word  the  flattery 
has  not  spoiled  her." 

"Poor  Dolly!  it's  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  that  you 
were  either  rich  or  run  after!  What 's  the  boy  di'eaming  of, 
with  his  eyes  staring  in  his  head  ?  " 

"I  'm  thinking  that  I  '11  go  into  Coleraine  to-night,  so  as 
to  be  there  when  the  mail  arrives  at  six  in  the  morning," 
said  Tony,  recovering  himself,  though  in  considerable  con- 
fusion.    "Skeffy's  room  is  all  read}',  isn't  it?" 

"To  be  sure  it  is;  and  very  nice  and  comfortable  it  looks 
too;"  and  as  she  spoke,  she  arose  and  went  into  the  little 
room,  on  which  she  and  Jenny  had  expended  any  amount 
of  care  and  trouble.  "But,  Tony  dear,"  she  cried  out, 
"what 's  become  of  Alice  Lyle's  picture?  I  put  it  over  the 
fireplace  myself,  this  morning." 

"And  I  took  it  down  again,  mother.  Skeffy  never  knew 
Alice,  —  never  saw  her." 

"It  was  n't  for  that  I  put  it  there;  it  was  because  she  was 
a  handsome  lassie,  and  it  's  always  a  pleasant  sight  to  look 
upon.  Just  bring  it  back  again;  the  room  looks  nothing 
without  it." 

"No,  no;  leave  it  in  your  own  room,  in  which  it  has 
always  been,"  said  he,  almost  sternly.  "And  now  about 
dinner  to-morrow;  I  suppose  we'd  better  make  no  change, 
but  just  have  it  at  three,  as  we  always  do." 

"Your  grand  friend  will  think  it's  luncheon,  Tony." 

"He  '11  learn  his  mistake  when  it  comes  to  tea-time;  but 
I  '11  go  and  see  if  there  's  not  a  salmon  to  be  had  at  Carrig- 
a-Rede  b-^fore  T  start;  and  if  I  'm  lucky,  I  '11  bring  you  a 
brace  of  snipe  back  with  me." 

"  Do  so,  Tony ;  and  if  Mr.  Gregg  was  to  offer  you  a  little 
seakale,  or  even  some  nice  fresh  celery  —  Eh,  dear,  he  's 
off,  and  no  minding  me!  He's  a  fine  true-hearted  lad," 
muttered  she,  as  she  reseated  herself  at  her  work;  "but  I 
wonder  what's  become  of  all  his  high  spirits,  and  the  merry 
ways  that  he  used  to  have." 

Tony  was  not  successful  in  his  pursuit  of  provender. 
There  was  a  heavy  sea  on  the  shore,  and  the  nets  had  been 

17 


258  TONY  BUTLER. 

taken  up ;  and  during  his  whole  walk  he  never  saw  a  bird. 
He  ate  a  hurried  dinner  when  he  came  back,  and,  taking 
one  more  look  at  Skeffy's  room  to  see  whether  it  looked  as 
comfortable  as  he  wished  it,  he  set  out  for  Coleraine. 

Now,  though  his  mind  was  very  full  of  his  coming  guest, 
in  part  pleasurably,  and  in  part  with  a  painful  conscious- 
ness of  his  inability  to  receive  him  handsomely,  his  thoughts 
would  wander  off  at  every  moment  to  Dolly  Stewart,  and 
to  her  return  home,  which  he  felt  convinced  was  still  more 
or  less  connected  with  his  own  freak.  The  evening  service 
was  going  on  in  the  meeting-house  as  he  passed,  and  he 
could  hear  the  swell  of  the  voices  in  the  last  hymn  that  pre- 
ceded the  final  prayer,  and  he  suddenly  bethought  him  that 
he  would  take  a  turn  by  the  Burnside  and  have  a  few  min- 
utes' talk  with  Dolly  before  her  father  got  back  from 
meeting. 

"She  is  such  a  true-hearted,  honest  girl,"  said  he  to  him- 
self, "she  '11  not  be  able  to  hide  the  fact  from  me;  and  I 
will  ask  her  flatly.  Is  this  so?  was  it  not  on  my  account 
you  left  the  place  ?  " 

All  was  still  and  quiet  at  the  minister's  cottage,  and  Tony 
raised  the  latch  and  walked  through  the  little  passage  into 
the  parlor  unseen.  The  parlor,  too,  was  empty.  A  large 
old  Bible  lay  open  on  the  table,  and  beside  it  a  handker- 
chief—  a  white  one  —  that  he  knew  to  be  Dolly's.  As  he 
looked  at  it,  he  bethought  him  of  one  Alice  had  given  him 
once  as  a  keepsake;  he  had  it  still.  How  different  that 
fragment  of  gossamer  with  the  frill  of  rich  lace  from  this 
homely  kerchief!  Were  they  not  almost  emblems  of  their 
owners  ?  and  if  so,  did  not  his  own  fortunes  rather  link  him 
with  the  humbler  than  with  the  higher?  With  one  there 
might  be  companionship;  with  the  other,  what  could  it  be 
but  dependence? 

While  he  was  standing  thus  thinking,  two  ice-cold  hands 
were  laid  over  his  eyes,  and  he  cried  out.  "Ay,  Dolly, 
those  frozen  fingers  are  yours ;  "  and  as  he  removed  her 
hands,  he  threw  one  arm  round  her  waist,  and,  pressing  her 
closely  to  him,  he  kissed  her. 

"Tony,  Tony!"  said  she,  reproachfully,  while  her  eyes 
Bwam  in  two  heavy  tears,  and  she  turned  away. 


AT  THE   MANSE.  259 

"Come  here  and  sit  beside  me,  Dolly.  I  want  to  ask  you 
a  question,  and  we  have  n't  much  time,  for  the  doctor  will 
be  here  presently,  and  I  am  so  fretted  and  worried  thinking 
over  it  that  I  have  nothing  left  but  to  come  straight  to  your- 
self and  ask  it." 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  said  she,  calmly. 

"But  you  will  be  frank  with  me,  Dolly, — frank  and 
honest,  as  j^ou  always  were,  — won't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  said  she,  slowly. 

"Ay,  but  you  must  be  sure  to  be  frank,  Dolly,  for  it 
touches  me  very  closely ;  and  to  show  you  that  you  may,  I 
will  tell  you  a  secret,  to  begin  with.  Your  father  has  had 
a  letter  from  that  Mrs.  M'Gruder,  where  you  lived." 

"From  her?"  said  Dolh^,  growing  so  suddenly  pale  that 
she  seemed  about  to  faint;  "are  you  sure  of  this?  " 

"My  mother  saw  it;  she  read  part  of  it,  and  here  's  what 
it  implies,  — that  it  was  all  my  fault  —  at  least,  the  fault  of 
knowing  me  —  that  cost  you  your  place.  She  tells,  not  very 
unfairly,  all  things  considered,  about  that  unlucky  night 
when  I  came  under  the  windows  and  had  that  row  with  her 
husband;  and  then  she  hints  at  something,  and  I'll  be 
hanged  if  I  can  make  out  at  what;  and  if  my  mother  knows, 
which  I  suspect  she  does  not,  she  has  not  told  me;  but 
whatever  it  be,  it  is  in  some  way  mixed  up  with  your  going 
away;  and  knowing,  my  dear  Dolly,  that  you  and  I  can  talk 
to  one  another  as  few  people  can  in  this  world,  —  is  it  not 
so?     Are  you  ill,  dear,  — are  you  faint?" 

"No;  those  are  weak  turns  that  come  and  go." 

"Put  your  head  down  here  on  my  shoulder,  my  poor  Dolly. 
How  pale  you  are!  and  your  hands  so  cold.  What  is  it 
you  say,  darling?     I  can't  hear." 

Her  lips  moved,  but  without  a  sound,  and  her  eyelids  fell 
lazily  over  her  eyes,  as,  pale  and  scarcely  seeming  to 
breathe,  she  leaned  heavily  towards  him,  and  fell  at  last 
in  his  arms.  There  stood  against  the  opposite  wall  of  the 
room  a  little  horse-hair  sofa,  a  hard  and  narrow  bench, 
to  which  he  carried  her,  and,  with  her  head  supported  by 
his  arm,  he  knelt  down  beside  her,  helpless  a  nurse  as  ever 
gazed  on  sickness. 

"There,  you  are  getting  better,  my  dear,  dear  Dolly,"  he 


260  TONY  BUTLER. 

said,  as  a  long  heavy  sigh  escaped  her.  "You  will  be  all 
right  presently,  my  poor  dear." 

"Fetch  me  a  little  water,"  said  she,  faintly. 

Tony  soon  found  some,  and  held  it  to  her  lips,  wonder- 
ing the  while  how  it  was  he  had  never  before  thought 
Dolly  beautiful,  so  regular  were  the  features,  so  calm  the 
brow,  so  finely  traced  the  mouth,  and  the  well-rounded  chin 
beneath  it.  How  strange  it  seemed  that  the  bright  eye  and 
the  rich  color  of  health  should  have  served  to  hide  rather 
than  heighten  these  traits! 

"I  think  I  must  have  fainted,  Ton}^,"  said  she,  weakly. 

"I  believe  you  did,  darling,"  said  he. 

"And  how  was  it?  Of  what  were  we  talking,  Tony? 
Tell  me  what  I  was  saying  to  you." 

Tony  was  afraid  to  refer  to  what  he  feared  might  have  had 
some  share  in  her  late  seizure;  he  dreaded  to  recur  to  it. 

"I  think  I  remember  it,"  said  she,  slowly,  and  as  if 
struggling  with  the  difficulty  of  a  mental  effort.  "But  stay; 
is  not  that  the  wicket  I  heard?  Father  is  coming,  Tony;" 
and  as  she  spoke,  the  heavy  foot  of  the  minister  was  heard 
on  the  passage. 

"Eh,  Tony  man,  ye  here?  I'd  rather  hae  seen  ye  at  the 
evening  lecture;  but  ye  're  no  fond  of  our  form  of  worship, 
I  believe.  The  Colonel,  your  father,  I  have  heard,  was  a 
strong  Episcopalian." 

"I  was  on  my  way  to  Coleraine,  doctor,  and  I  turned  off 
at  the  mill  to  see  Dolly,  and  ask  her  how  she  was." 

"Y^e  winna  stay  to  supper,  then?"  said  the  old  man, 
who,  hospitable  enough  on  ordinary  occasions,  had  no  wish 
to  see  the  Sabbath  evening's  meal  invaded  by  the  presence 
of  a  guest,  even  of  one  so  well  known  as  Tony. 

Tony  muttered  some  not  very  connected  excuses,  while 
his  eyes  turned  to  Dolly,  who,  still  pale  and  sicklj'-looking, 
gave  him  one  little  brief  nod,  as  though  to  sa}^  it  were  better 
he  should  go;  and  the  old  minister  himself  stood  erect  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  calmly  and  almost  coldly  waiting 
the  words  "Good-bye." 

"Am  I  to  tell  mother  you  '11  come  to  us  to-morrow,  doc- 
tor, —  you  and  Dolly?"  asked  Tony,  with  his  hand  on  the 
door. 


AT  THE   MANSE.  261 

"It's  no  on  the  Sabbath  evening  we  should  turn  our 
thoughts  to  feastin',  Master  Tony;  and  none  know  that 
better  than  your  worthy  mother.  I  wish  you  a  good- 
evening  and  a  pleasant  walk." 

*' Good-night,"  said  Tony,  shutting  the  door  sharply; 
"and,"  muttered  he  to  himself,  "if  you  catch  me  crossing 
your  threshold  again.  Sabbath  or  week-day  — "  He 
stopped,  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and,  drawing  his  hand  across 
his  eyes,  said,  "My  poor  dear  Dolly,  hasn't  my  precious 
temper  done  you  mischief  enough  already,  that  I  must  let  it 
follow  you  to  your  own  quiet  fireside?  " 

And  he  went  his  way,  w4th  many  a  vow  of  self-amend- 
ment, and  many  a  kind  wish,  that  w^as  almost  a  prayer,  foi 
the  minister  and  his  daughter. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

DEPARTURES. 

All  was  confusion  and  dismay  at  Tilney.  Bella  Lyle's 
cold  turned  out  to  be  scarlatina,  and  Mark  and  Alice 
brousrht  back  tidinors  that  old  Commodore  Graham  had 
been  seized  with  a  fit,  and  was  seriously,  if  not  dangerously, 
ill.  Of  course,  the  company  scattered  like  an  exploded 
shell.  The  Graham  girls  hastened  back  to  their  father, 
while  the  other  guests  sought  safety  in  flight,  the  great 
struggle  now  being  who  should  soonest  secure  post-horses 
to  get  away.  Like  many  old  people  rich  in  this  world's 
comforts,  Mrs.  Maxwell  had  an  especial  aversion  to  illness 
in  any  shape.  It  was  a  topic  she  never  spoke  on ;  and,  if 
she  could,  would  never  have  mentioned  before  her.  Her 
intimates  understood  this  thoroughly,  and  many  were  the 
expressions  employed  to  imply  that  Mr.  Such-a-one  had  a 
fever,  or  Mrs.  So-and-so  was  given  over  by  her  doctors. 
As  to  the  fatal  result  itself,  it  was  always  veiled  in  a  sort 
of  decent  mystery,  as  though  it  would  not  be  perfectly  polite 
to  inquire  whither  the  missing  friend  had  retired  to. 

"Dr.  Reede  says  it  is  a  very  mild  case  of  the  malady,  and 
that  Bella  will  be  up  in  a  day  or  two,  aunt,"  said  Alice. 

"Of  course  she  will,"  replied  the  old  lady,  pettishly. 
"It 's  just  a  cold  and  sore  throat,  —  they  had  n't  that  fine 
name  for  it  long  ago,  and  people  got  well  all  the  sooner. 
Is  he  gone  ?  " 

"No;  he's  talking  with  Mark  in  the  library;  he'll  be 
telling  him,   I  think,   about  the  Commodore." 

"Well,  don't  ask  him  to  stop  to  dinner;  we  have  sorrow 
enough  without  seeing  a  doctor." 

"Oh,  here  comes  Mark!     Where  is  Dr.  Reede?" 

"He's  gone  over  to  see  Maitland.  Fenton  came  to  say 
that  he  wished  to  see  him." 


DEPARTURES.  263 

*' Surely  he  's  not  ill,"  said  Alice. 

"Ob,  dear!  what  a  misfortune  that  would  be!  "  cried  the 
old  lady,  w^ith  real  affliction  in  her  tone;  "to  think  of  Mr. 
Norman  Maitland  taking  ill  in  one's  house." 

"Haven't  you  been  over  to  ask  after  him,  Mark?" 

"No.  I  was  waiting  till  Reede  came  back:  he  's  one  of 
those  men  that  can't  bear  being  inquired  after;  and  if  it 
should  turn  out  that  he  was  not  ill,  he  'd  not  take  the  anxiety 
in  good  part." 

"How  he  has  contrived  to  play  the  tyrant  to  you  all,  I 
can't  imagine,"  said  Alice;  "but  I  can  see  that  every  whim 
and  caprice  he  practises  is  studied  as  courtiers  study  the 
moods  of  their  masters." 

"To  be  sure,  darling,  naturally,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Max- 
well, who  always  misunderstood  everybody.  "Of  course, 
we  are  only  too  happy  to  indulge  him  in  a  whim  or 
fancy;  and  if  the  doctor  thinks  turtle  would  suit  him  — 
turtle  is  so  light;  I  took  it  for  several  weeks  for  luncheon 
—  we  can  have  it  at  once.  Will  you  touch  the  bell,  Mark, 
and  I'll  tell  Raikes  to  telegraph?  Who  is  it  he  gets  it 
from  ?  " 

Mark  pulled  the  bell,  but  took  no  notice  of  her  question. 
"I  wish,"  muttered  he  below  his  breath,  "we  had  never 
come  here.  There  's  Bella  now,  laid  up,  and  here  's  Mait- 
land. I  'm  certain  he  's  going  away,  for  I  overheard  Fenton 
ask  about  the  distance  to  Dundalk." 

"I  suppose  we  might  survive  even  that  misfortune,"  said 
she,  haughtily. 

"And  one  thing  I'll  swear  to,"  said  Mark,  walking  the 
room  with  impatience,  — "it's  the  last  Ireland  will  see  of 
him." 

"Poor  Ireland!  the  failure  in  the  potato-crop  was  bad 
enough,  but  th,is  is  more  than  can  be  endured." 

"That's  all  very  fine,  Alice,  but  I 'm  much  mistaken  if 
you  are  as  indifferent  as  you  pretend." 

"Mark!  what  do  you  mean?"  said  she,  angrily. 

"Here  's  Raikes  now;  and  will  some  one  tell  him  what  it 
is  we  want?"  said  Mrs.  Maxwell;  but  the  others  were  far 
too  deeply  engaged  in  their  own  whispered  controversy  now 
to  mind  her. 


264  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Captain  Lyle  will  tell  you  by  and  by,  Raikes,"  said 
she,  gathering  up  the  mass  of  loose  impedimenta  with  which 
she  usually  moved  from  one  room  to  the  other,  and  by 
which,  as  they  fell  at  every  step,  her  course  could  always 
be  tracked.  "He'll  tell  you,"  added  she,  moving  awa3\ 
"I  think  it  was  caviare,  and  you  are  to  telegraph  for  it 
to  Swan  and  Edgar's  —  but  my  head  is  confused  to-day; 
I'll  just  go  and  lie  down." 

As  Mrs.  Maxwell  left  by  one  door,  Alice  passed  out  by 
another;  while  Mark,  whose  temper  evinced  itself  in  a 
flushed  cheek  and  a  contracted  brow,  stood  at  a  window, 
fretfully  tapping  the  ground  with  his  foot. 

"Have  you  any  orders,  sir?"  asked  Raikes. 

"Orders!  No  —  stay  a  moment.  Have  many  gone  away 
this  morning?" 

"  Nearly  all,  sir.  Except  your  family  and  Mr.  Maitland, 
there  's  nobody  left  but  Major  Clough,  and  he  's  going,  I 
believe,  with  Dr.  Reede." 

"You  've  heard  nothing  of  Mr.  Maitland  going,  have 
you?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir!  his  man  sent  for  post-horses  about  an  hour 
ago." 

Muttering  impatiently  below  his  breath,  Mark  opened  the 
window  and  passed  out  upon  the  lawn.  What  an  unlucky 
turn  had  everything  taken !  It  was  but  a  week  ago,  and  his 
friend  Maitland  was  in  high  delight  with  all  around  him. 
The  country,  the  scenery,  the  people  were  all  charming; 
indeed,  in  the  intervals  between  the  showers,  he  had  a  good 
word  to  say  for  the  climate.  As  for  Lyle  Abbey,  he  pro- 
nounced it  the  perfection  of  a  country-house;  and  Mark 
actually  speculated  on  the  time  when  these  opinions  of  his 
distinguished  friend  would  have  acquired  a  certain  currency, 
and  the  judgment  of  one  that  none  disputed  would  be  re- 
corded of  his  father's  house.  And  all  these  successes  were 
now  to  be  reversed  by  this  stupid  old  sailor's  folly,  —  in- 
sanity he  might  call  it;  for  what  other  word  could  charac- 
terize the  pretension  that  could  claim  Norman  Maitland  for 
a  son-in-law?  —  Maitland,  that  might  have  married,  if  the 
law  would  have  let  him,  half  a  score  of  infantas  and  arch- 
duchesses, and  who  had  but  to  choose  throughout  Europe  the 


DEPARTURES.  265 

alliance  that  would  suit  him.  And  Alice  —  what  could 
Alice  mean  by  this  impertinent  tone  she  was  taking  towards 
him?  Had  the  great  man's  patience  given  way  under  it  all, 
and  was  he  really  going  away,  wearied  and  tired  out? 

While  3Iark  thus  doubted  and  reasoned  and  questioned, 
Maitland  was  seated  at  his  breakfast  at  one  side  of  the  fire, 
while  Dr.  Reede  confronted  him  at  the  other. 

Though  Maitland  had  sent  a  message  to  say  he  wished  to 
see  the  doctor,  he  only  gave  him  now  a  divided  attention, 
being  deeply  engaged,  even  as  he  talked,  in  deciphering  a 
telegram  which  had  just  reached  him,  and  which  was  only 
intelligible  through  a  key  to  the  cipher. 

"So,  then,  doctor,  it  is  simply  the  return  of  an  old 
attack,  —  a  thing  to  be  expected,  in  fact,  at  his  time  of 
life?" 

"Precisely,  sir.  He  had  one  last  autumn  twelve  month, 
brought  on  by  a  fit  of  passion.  The  old  Commodore  gives 
way,  rather,  to  temper." 

"Ah!  gives  way,  does  he?"  muttered  Maitland,  while  he 
mumbled  below  his  breath,  "  '  seventeen  thousand  and  four 
D  +  X,  and  a  gamba, '  —  a  very  large  blood-letting.  By  the 
way,  doctor,  is  not  bleeding  —  bleeding  largely  —  a  critical 
remedy  with  a  man  of  seventy-six  or  seven  ? " 

"Very  much  so,  indeed,  sir;  and,  if  you  observe,  I  only 
applied  some  leeches  to  the  ymchce.  You  misapprehended 
me  in  thinking  I  took  blood  from  him  freely." 

"Oh,  yes,  very  true,"  said  Maitland,  recovering  himself. 
"I  have  no  doubt  you  treated  him  with  great  judgment.  It 
is  a  case,  too,  for  much  caution.  Forty-seven  and  two  G's," 
and  he  hastily  turned  over  the  leaves  of  his  little  book, 
muttering  continually,  "and  two  G's,  forty-six,  forty-seven, 
with  two  B's,  two  F's.  Ah!  here  it  is.  Shivering  attacks 
are  dangerous  —  are  they  —  in  these  cases  ?  " 

"In  which  cases?  ",  asked  the  doctor;  for  his  shrewd  in- 
telligence at  once  perceived  the  double  object  which  Mait- 
land was  trying  to  contemplate. 

"In  a  word,  then,"  continued  Maitland,  not  heeding  the 
doctor's  question,  but  bending  his  gaze  fixedly  on  the  piece 
of  paper  before  him,  scrawled  over  and  blotted  by  his  own 
hand,  —  "in  a  word,  then,  a  man  of  seventy,   seized  with 


266  TONY  BUTLER. 

paralysis,  and,  though  partially  rallied  by  bleeding, 
attacked  with  shivering,  is  in  a  very  critical  state?  But 
how  long  might  he  live  in  that  way?" 

"We  are  not  now  speaking  of  Commodore  Graham,  I 
apprehend  ?  "  asked  the  doctor,  slyly. 

"No;  I  am  simply  putting  a  case, — a  possible  case. 
Doctors,  I  know,  are  not  fond  of  these  imagined  emergen- 
cies; lawyers  like  them." 

"Doctors  dislike  them,"  broke  in  Reede,  "because  they 
are  never  given  to  them  in  any  completeness,  —  every 
important  sign  of  pulse  and  tongue  and  temperature 
omitted  —  " 

"Of  course  you  are  right,"  said  Maitland,  crumpling  up 
the  telegram  and  the  other  papers;  "and  now  for  the  Com- 
modore. You  are  not  apprehensive  of  anything  serious,  I 
hope? " 

"It 's  an  anxious  case,  sir,  —  a  very  anxious  case;  he  's 
eighty-four." 

"Eighty-four!"  repeated  Maitland,  to  whom  the  words 
conveyed  a  considerable  significance. 

"Eighty-four!  "  repeated  the  other,  once  more.  "No  one 
would  suspect  it.  Why,  Sally  Graham  is  the  same  age  as 
my  wife ;  they  were  at  school  together. " 

Too  polite  to  push  a  question  which  involved  a  double- 
shotted  answer,  Maitland  merely  said,  "Indeed!"  and, 
after  a  slight  pause,  added,  "You  said,  I  think,  that  the 
road  to  Dundalk  led  past  Commodore  Graham's  cottage? " 

"By  the  very  gate." 

"May  1  offer  you  a  seat  with  me?  I  am  going  that  way. 
I  have  received  news  which  calls  me  suddenly  to  England." 

"I  thank  you  much,  but  I  have  some  visits  yet  to  make 
before  I  return  to  Port-Graham.  I  promised  to  stop  the 
night  there." 

Having  charged  the  doctor  to  convey  to  the  Commodore's 
daughters  his  sincere  regret  for  their  father's  illness,  and 
his  no  less  sincere  hope  of  a  speedy  recovery,  Maitland 
endeavored,  in  recognition  of  a  preliminary  question  or  two 
about  himself,  to  press  the  acceptance  of  a  fee;  but  the 
doctor,  armed  with  that  self-respect  and  tact  his  profession 
so  eminently  upholds,  refused  to  accept  it,  and  took   his 


DEPARTURES.  267 

leave,  perhaps  well  requited  in  having  seen  and  spoken 
with  the  great  Mr.  Norman  Maitland,  of  whom  half  the 
country  round  were  daily  talking. 

"Mr.  Maitland  is  not  ill,  I  hope?"  said  Alice,  as  she 
met  the  doctor  on  his  way  through  the  garden. 

''No,  Mrs.  Trafford;  I  have  been  making  a  friendly  call 
—  no  more,"  said  the  doctor,  rather  vain  that  he  could  thus 
designate  his  visit;  and  with  a  few  words  of  advice  about 
her  sister,  he  went  his  way.  Alice,  meanwhile,  saw  that 
Maitland  had  observed  her  from  his  window,  and  rightly 
guessed  that  he  would  soon  be  in  search  of  her. 

With  that  feminine  instinct  that  never  deceives  in  such 
cases,  she  determined  that  whatever  was  to  pass  between 
them  should  be  undisturbed.  She  selected  a  most  unfre- 
quented path,  bordered  on  one  side  by  the  high  laurel-hedge, 
and  on  the  other  by  a  little  rivulet,  beyond  which  lay  some 
rich  meadows,  backed  in  the  distance  by  a  thick  plantation. 

She  had  not  gone  far  when  she  heard  a  short  quick  foot- 
step behind  her,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Maitland  was  at  her 
side.  ''You  forgot  to  liberate  me,"  said  he,  "so  I  had  to 
break  my  arrest." 

''^Signor  mio,  you  must  forgive  me;  we  have  had  such  a 
morning  of  confusion  and  trouble :  first,  Bella  ill,  —  not 
seriously,  but  confined  to  bed ;  and  then  this  poor  old  Com- 
modore, —  the  doctor  has  told  you  all  about  it ;  and,  last  of 
all,  Mark  storming  about  the  house,  and  angry  with  every 
one  for  having  caught  cold  or  a  fever,  and  so  disgusted  (the 
great)  Mr.  Maitland  that  he  is  actually  hurrying  awa}^, 
with  a  vow  to  heaven  nevermore  to  put  foot  in  Ireland." 

"  Be  a  little  serious,  and  tell  me  of  your  mission  this 
morning,"  said  he,  gravely. 

''Three  words  will  do  it.  We  reached  Port-Graham  just 
as  the  doctor  arrived  there.  The  Commodore,  it  seemed, 
got  home  all  safe  by  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning ;  and 
instead  of  going  to  bed,  ordered  a  fire  in  his  dressing-room, 
and  a  bottle  of  mulled  port ;  with  which  aids  to  comfort  he 
sat  down  to  write.  It  would  not  appear,  however,  that  he 
had  got  far  in  his  correspondence,  for  at  six,  when  his  man 
entered,  he  found  but  two  lines,  and  his  master,  as  he 
thought,  fast  asleep ;  but  which  proved  to  be  a  fit  of  some 


288  TONY  BUTLER. 

kind,  for  he  was  perfectly  insensible.  He  rallied,  however, 
and  recognized  his  servant,  and  asked  for  the  girls.  And 
DOW  Dr.  Reede  thinks  that  the  danger  has  in  a  great  measure 
passed  off,  and  that  all  will  go  well." 

''It  is  most  unhappy, — most  unhappy,"  muttered  Mait- 
land.      "I  am  sincerely  sorry  for  it  all." 

"  Of  course  you  are,  though  perhaps  not  really  to  blame, 
—  at  least,  not  blamable  in  a  high  degree." 

"  Not  in  any  degree,  Mrs.  Trafford." 

"That  must  be  a  matter  of  opinion.  At  all  events,  your 
secret  is  safe,  for  the  old  man  has  totally  forgotten  all  that 
occurred  last  night  between  you  ;  and  lest  any  clew  to  it 
should  remain,  I  carried  away  tjie  beginning  of  the  letter 
he  was  writing.     Here  it  is." 

"  How  thoughtfully  done  !  "  said  he,  as  he  took  the  paper 
and  read  aloud  :  "  '  Dear  Triphook,  come  over  and  help  me 
to  a  shot  at  a  rascal '  —  not  civil,  certainly  —  '  at  a  rascal ; 
that  because  he  calls  himself  — '  It  was  well  he  got  no 
further,"  added  he,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  A  good,  bold  hand  it  is  too  for  such  an  old  man.  I 
declare,  Mr.  Maitland,  I  think  your  usual  luck  must  have 
befriended  you  here.  The  fingers  that  held  the  pen  so 
steadily  might  have  been  just  as  unshaken  with  the  pistol." 

There  was  something  so  provocative  in  her  tone  that  Mait- 
land detected  the  speech  at  once,  and  became  curious  to 
trace  it  to  a  cause.  At  this  sally,  however,  he  only  smiled 
in  silence. 

"  I  tried  to  persuade  Mark  to  drive  over  and  see  Tony 
Butler,"  continued  she,  "  but  he  would  n't  consent :  in  fact,  a 
general  impulse  to  be  disobliging  would  appear  to  have 
seized  on  the  world  just  now.     Don't  you  think  so?" 

"  By  the  way,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  your  prot'^ge 
Butler  refuses  to  accept  my  offer.  I  got  three  lines  from 
him,  very  dry  and  concise,  saying  '  no '  to  me.  Of  course 
I  trust  to  your  discretion  never  to  disclose  the  negotiation  in 
any  way.  I  myself  shall  never  speak  of  it;  indeed,  I  am 
very  little  given  to  doing  civil  things,  and  even  less  accus- 
tomed to  finding  them  ill-received,  so  that  my  secrecy  is 
insured." 

"  He  ought  not  to  have  refused,"  said  she,  thoughtfully. 


DEPARTURES.  2G9 

"Perhaps  not." 

"  He  ought  certainly  to  have  given  the  matter  more  con- 
sideration. I  wish  I  could  have  been  consulted  by  him.  Is 
it  too  late  yet  ?  " 

''  I  suspect  it  is,"  said  he,  dryly.  "  First  of  all,  as  I  told 
you,  I  am  little  in  the  habit  of  meeting  a  repulse;  and, 
secondly,  there  is  no  time  to  renew  the  negotiation.  I  must 
leave  this  to-day." 

"To-day?" 

"Within  an  hour,"  added  he,  looking  at  his  watch;  "I 
must  manage  to  reach  Dublin  in  time  to  catch  the  mail- 
packet  to-morrow  morning." 

"  This  is  very  sudden,  this  determination." 

"  Yes,  I  am  called  away  by  tidings  I  received  awhile  ago, 
—  tidings  of,  to  me,  the  deepest  importance." 

"  Mark  will  be  extremely  sorry,"  said  she,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Not  sorrier  than  I  am,"  said  he,  despondently. 

"We  all  counted  on  your  coming  back  with  us  to  the 
Abbey ;  and  it  was  only  awhile  ago  Bella  begged  that  we 
should  wait  here  for  a  day  or  two,  that  we  might  return 
together,  a  family  party." 

"What  a  flattery  there  is  in  the  phrase!"  said  he,  with 
deep  feeling. 

"  You  don't  know,"  continued  she,  "what  a  favorite  you 
are  with  my  mother.  I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  repeat  how 
she  speaks  of  you." 

"  Why  will  you  multiply  my  regrets,  Mrs.  Trafford  ?  Why 
will  you  make  my  parting  so  very,  very  painful  ?  " 

"  Because  I  prefer  that  you  should  stay ;  because  I  speak 
in  the  name  of  a  whole  house  who  will  be  afflicted  at  your 
going." 

"  You  have  told  me  of  all  save  one,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  of 
deepest  feeling;  "  I  want  to  learn  what  she  thinks." 

"She  thinks  that  if  Mr.  Maitland's  good-nature  be  only 
on  a  par  with  his  other  qualities,  he  would  sooner  face  the 
tiresomeness  of  a  stupid  house  than  make  the  owners  of  it 
feel  that  they  bored  him." 

"  She  does  not  think  anything  of  the  kind,"  said  he,  with 
a  peculiar  smile.  "  She  knows  that  there  is  no  question  of 
good  nature  or  of  boredom  in  the  matter  at  all ;  but  there  is 


270  TONY  BUTLER. 

something  at  stake  far  more  touching  than  either."  He 
waited  to  see  if  she  would  speak,  but  as  she  was  silent  he 
went  on :  "I  will  be  honest,  if  yoii  will  not.  I  am  not 
going  away  of  my  freewill.  T  have  been  called  by  a  telegram 
this  morning  to  the  Continent ;  the  matter  is  so  pressing  that 
—  shall  I  confess  it?  —  if  this  stupid  meeting  with  the 
Commodore  had  been  arranged,  I  should  have  been  a  de- 
faulter. Yes,  I  'd  have  made  I  don't  well  know  what 
explanation  to  account  for  my  absence.  I  can  imagine  what 
comments  would  have  been  passed  upon  my  conduct.  I 
feel  very  painfully,  too,  for  the  part  I  should  have  left  to 
such  of  my  friends  liere  as  would  defend  me,  and  yet  have 
not  a  fragment  to  guide  their  defence.  And  still,  with  all 
these  before  me,  1  repeat,  I  would  have  gone  away,  so 
imminent  is  the  case  that  calls  me,  and  so  much  is  the  matter 
one  that  involves  the  whole  future  of  my  life.  And  now," 
said  he,  while  his  voice  became  fuller  and  bolder,  "  that  I 
have  told  you  this,  I  am  ready  to  tell  you  more,  and  to  say 
that  at  one  word  of  yours  —  one  little  word  —  I  '11  remain." 

"And  what  may  that  word  be?"  said  she,  quietly;  for 
while  he  was  speaking  she  had  been  preparing  herself  for 
some  such  issue. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,"  said  he,  gravely. 

"  Supposing,  then,  that  I  guess  it,  — I  am  not  sure  that  I 
do,  —  but  suppose  that,  —  and  could  it  not  be  just  as  well 
said  by  another,  —  by  Bella,   for  instance  ?  " 

"  Y^ou  know  it  could  not.  This  is  only  fencing,  for  you 
know  it  could  not." 

"  Y^ou  mean,  in  fact,  that  I  should  say,  '  don't  go?  '  " 

"Tdo." 

"Well,  I  'm  willing  enough  to  say  so,  if  my  words  are  not 
to  convey  more  than  I  intend  by  them." 

"  I  '11  risk  even  that,"  said  he,  quickly.  "  Put  your  name 
to  the  bond,  and  we  '11  let  lawyers  declare  what  it  is  worth 
after." 

"  You  frighten  me,  Mr.  Maitland,"  said  she,  and  her  tone 
showed  that  now  at  least  she  was  sincere. 

"Listen  to  me  for  one  moment,  Alice,"  said  he,  taking 
ber  hand  as  he  walked  beside  her.  "  You  are  fully  as  much 
the  mistress  of  your  fate  as  I  am  master  of  mine.     Y^ou  may 


^      OF    THE 

UNIVERSITY    }) 

CF  J 

^*^^54i££gS^^^EPAIlTURES.  271 


consult,  but  you  need  not  obey.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  I 
never  would  have  dared  on  a  hardihood  that  would  probably 
have  wrecked  my  hopes.  It  is  just  as  likely  I  never  could 
satisfy  the  friends  about  you  on  the  score  of  my  fortune,  — 
my  means,  —  my  station,  and  so  on.  It  is  possible,  too,  that 
scandal,  which  makes  free  with  better  men,  may  not  have 
spared  7ne,  and  that  they  who  would  have  the  right  to  advise 
you  might  say,  '  Beware  of  that  dreadful  man.'  I  repeat,  this 
is  an  ordeal  my  pride  would  feel  it  hard  to  pass  through ; 
and  so  I  come  to  you,  in  all  frankness,  and  declare  I  love 
3"ou.  To  you  —  you  alone  —  I  will  give  every  guarantee 
that  a  man  may  give  of  his  honor  and  honesty.  I  will  tell 
all  my  past,  and  so  much  as  I  mean  for  the  future ;  and  in 
return,  I  only  ask  for  time, — nothing  but  time,  Alice.  I 
am  not  asking  you  for  any  pledge,  simply  that  you  will  give 
me  —  what  you  would  not  have  refused  a  mere  acquaintance 
—  the  happiness  of  seeing  j^ou  daily  ;  and  if  —  if,  I  say,  you 
yourself  should  not  deem  the  hand  and  the  love  I  offer 
beneath  you,  —  if  you  should  be  satisfied  with  the  claims  of 
him  who  would  share  his  fortune  with  you,  —  that  then  — 
not  till  then  —  others  should  hear  of  it.  Is  this  too  much 
for  me  to  ask,  or  you  to  give,  Alice?" 

"  Even  now  I  do  not  know  what  you  ask  of  me." 

"  First  of  all,  that  you  bid  me  stay." 

"  It  is  but  this  moment  you  have  declared  to  me  that  what 
calls  you  away  is  of  the  very  last  importance  to  you  in 
life." 

"The  last  but  one,  Alice, — the  last  is  here;"  and  he 
kissed  her  hand  as  he  spoke,  but  still  with  an  air  so  deferent 
that  she  could  not  resent  it. 

"I  cannot  consent  that  it  shall  be  so,"  said  she,  with 
energy.  "  It  is  true  I  am  my  own  mistress,  and  there  is  but 
the  greater  reason  why  I  should  be  more  cautious.  We  are 
almost  strangers  to  each  other.  All  the  flattery  of  your  pro- 
fessions —  and  of  Course,  I  feel  it  as  flattery  —  does  not 
blind  me  to  the  fact  that  I  scarcely  know  you  at  all." 

"  Why  not  consent  to  know  me  more?  "  asked  he,  almost 
imploringly. 

"  I  agree,  if  no  pledge  is  to  accompany  my  consent." 

"  Is  not  this  a  somewhat  hard  condition?  "  said  he,  with  a 


272  TONY  BUTLER. 

voice  of  passionate  meaning.  "You  bid  me,  in  one  word, 
place  all  that  I  have  of  hope  on  the  issue,  —  not  even  on 
that,  but  simply  for  leave  to  play  the  game.  Is  this  gener- 
ous, Alice,  —  is  it  even  just?" 

"  You  bewilder  me  with  all  these  subtleties,  and  I  might  ask 
if  this  were  either  just  or  generous ;  but  at  least,  I  will  be 
frank.  I  like  you  very  well.  I  think  it  not  at  all  impossible 
that  I  might  like  you  better ;  but  even  after  that,  Mr.  Mait- 
land,  there  would  be  a  long  stage  to  travel  to  that  degree  of 
regard  which  you  profess  to  desire  from  me.  Do  I  make 
myself  understood?" 

"  Too  well  for  me  and  m^^  hopes !  "  said  he,  despondingly. 
"  You  are  able,  however,  to  impose  hard  conditions." 

"  I  impose  none,  sir.     Do  not  mistake  me." 

"  You  leave  none  others  open  to  me,  at  least,  and  I  accept 
them.  To  give  me  even  that  faint  chance  of  success,  how- 
ever, I  must  leave  this  to-day.     Is  it  not  better  I  should  ?  " 

"I  really  cannot  advise,"  said  she,  with  a  well-assumed 
coldness. 

"  Even  contingently,  Mrs.  Trafford  will  not  involve  herself 
in  my  fortunes,"  said  he.  half  haughtily.  "  Well,  my  journej' 
to  Ireland,  amongst  other  benefits,  has  taught  me  a  lesson 
that  all  my  wanderings  never  imparted.  I  have  at  last 
learned  something  of  humility.     Good-b3^e." 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Maitland,"  said  she,  with  calm,  but 
evidently  not  without  effort. 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her  hand,  held  it  for  a  moment  or 
two  in  his  own,  and  with  a  very  faint  "Good-bye,"  turned 
away  and  left  her.  He  turned  suddenl}^  around  after  a 
few  paces,  and  came  back.  "May  I  ask  one  question, 
Alice,  before  I  go?" 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  shall  answer  it,"  said  she,  with  a 
faint  smile. 

"I  cannot  afford  to  add  jealousy  to  my  other  torments. 
Tell  me,  then  —  " 

"Take  care,  sir,  take  care;  your  question  ma}^  cost  3'ou 
more  than  you  think  of." 

"Good-bye, — good-bye,"  said  he,  sadly,  and  departed. 
"Are  the  horses  ready,  Fenton?  "  asked  he,  as  his  servant 
came  to  meet  him. 


DEPARTURES.  273 

*'  Yes,  sir ;  and  Captain  Lyle  has  been  looking  for  you  all 
over  the  garden." 

"He's  going,  —  he's  off,  Bella,"  said  Alice,  as  she  sat 
down  beside  her  sister's  bed,  throwing  her  bonnet  care- 
lessly down  at  her  feet. 

"Who  is  going?  —  who  is  off?"  asked  Bella,  eagerly. 

"  Of  course,"  continued  Alice,  following  up  her  own 
thoughts,  "to  say  'Stay'  means  more  than  I  like  to  be 
pledged  to,  —  I  couldn't  do  it." 

"  Poor  Tony  !  — give  him  my  love,  Alice,  and  tell  him  I 
shall  often  think  of  him,  —  as  often  as  ever  I  think  of 
bygone  days  and  all  their  happiness." 

"  And  why  must  it  be  Tony  that  I  spoke  of?  "  said  Alice, 
rising,  while  a  deep  crimson  flush  covered  her  face  and  brow. 
"  I  think  Master  Tony  has  shown  us  latterly  that  he  has  for- 
gotten the  long  ago,  and  has  no  wish  to  connect  us  with 
thoughts  of  the  future." 


18 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

CONSPIRATORS. 

In  one  of  those  low-ceilinged  apartments  of  a  Parisian  hotel 
which  modern  luxury  seems  peculiai'ly  to  affect,  decorating 
the  walls  with  the  richest  hangings,  and  gathering  together 
promiscuously  objects  of  art  and  vlrth,^  along  with  what  can 
minister  to  voluptuous  ease,  Maitland  and  Caffarelli  were 
now  seated.  They  had  dined,  and  their  coffee  stood  before 
them  on  a  table  spread  with  a  costly  dessert  and  several 
bottles,  whose  length  of  neck  and  color  indicated  choice 
liquor. 

They  lounged  in  the  easiest  of  chairs  in  the  easiest  of  atti- 
tudes, and,  as  they  puffed  their  havannahs,  did  not  ill-repre- 
sent in  tableau  the  luxurious  self-indulgence  of  the  age  we 
live  in.  For  let  us  talk  as  we  will  of  progress  and  mental 
activity,  be  as  boastful  as  we  may  about  the  march  of  science 
and  discovery,  in  what  are  we  so  really  conspicuous  as  in 
the  inventions  that  multiply  ease,  and  bring  the  means  of 
indulgence  within  the  reach  of  even  moderate  fortune? 

As  the  wood  fire  crackled  and  flared  on  the  ample  hearth, 
a  heavy  plash  of  hail  struck  the  window,  and  threatened 
almost  to  smash  it. 

"  AYhat  a  night!  "said  Maitland,  drawing  closer  to  the 
blaze.  "I  say,  Carlo  mio,  it's  somewhat  cosier  to  sit  in 
this  fashion  than  be  toddling  over  the  Mont  Cenis  in  a 
shabby  old  sledge,  and  listening  to  the  discussion  whether 
you  are  to  spend  the  night  in  the  '  Refuge  No.  One,  or  No. 
Two.'  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Caffarelli,  "  it  must  have  been  a  great  relief 
to  you  to  have  got  my  telegram  in  Dublin,  and  to  know  that 
you  need  not  cross  the  Alps." 

"  If  I  could  only  have  been  certain  that  I  understood  it 
aright,  I  'd  have  gone  straight  back  to  the  north  from  whence 


CONSPIRATORS.  275 

I  came  ;  but  there  was  a  word  that  puzzled  me,  —  the  word 
calamita.  Now  we  have  not  yet  arrived  at  the  excelleuce 
of  accenting  foreign  words  in  our  telegraph  offices ;  and  as 
your  most  amiable  and  philosophical  of  all  nations  has  but 
the  same  combination  of  letters  to  express  an  attraction  and 
an  affliction,  I  was  sorely  puzzled  to  make  out  whether  you 
wrote  with  or  without  an  accent  on  the  last  syllable.  It 
made  all  the  difference  in  the  world  whether  you  say  events 
are  a  '  loadstone '  or  a  '  misfortune.'  I  gave  half  an  hour  to 
the  study  of  the  passage,  and  then  came  on." 

"Per  Bacco!  I  never  thought  of  that;  but  what,  under 
any  circumstances,  would  have  induced  3^ou  to  go  back 
again  ?  " 

''  I  fell  in  love !  " 

Caffarelli  pushed  the  lamp  aside  to  have  a  better  view 
of  his  friend,  and  then  laughed  long  and  heartily.  "  Maso 
Arretini  used  often  to  say,  '  Maitland  will  die  a  monk ; ' 
and  I  begin  now  to  believe  it  is  quite  possible." 

"  Maso  was  a  fool  for  his  prediction.  Had  I  meant  to  be 
a  monk,  I  'd  have  taken  to  the  cowl  when  I  had  youth  and 
vigor  and  dash  in  me,  the  qualities  a  man  ought  to  bring 
to  a  new  career.  Ha !  what  is  there  so  strange  in  the  fact 
that  I  should  fall  in  love?  " 

"  Don't  ask  as  if  you  were  offended  with  me,  and  I'll  try 
and  tell  you." 

*'  I  am  calm;  go  on." 

"  First  of  all,  Maitland,  no  easy  conquest  would  satisfy 
your  vanity,  and  you  'd  never  have  patience  to  pursue  a 
difficult  one.  Again,  the  objects  that  really  have  an  attrac- 
tion for  you  —  such  as  Ambition  and  Power  —  have  the 
same  fascination  for  you  that  high  play  has  for  a  gambler. 
You  do  not  admit  nor  understand  any  other ;  and,  last  of 
all,  —  one  is  nothing  if  not  frank  in  these  cases,  —  you  'd 
never  believe  any  woman  was  lovely  enough,  clever  enough, 
or  graceful  enough  to  be  worthy  of  Norman  Maitland." 

"The  candor  has  been  perfect.  I'll  try  and  imitate  it," 
said  Maitland,  filling  his  glass  slowly,  and  slightly  wetting 
his  lips.  "All  you  have  just  said,  Carlo,  would  be  unim- 
peachable if  all  women  were  your  countrywomen,  and  if 
love  were  what  it  is  understood  to  be  in  an  Italian  city  ;  but 


276  TONY  BUTLER. 

there  are  such  things  in  this  dreary  laud  of  fog  and  snow- 
drift as  women  who  do  not  believe  intrigue  to  be  the  chief 
object  of  human  existence,  who  have  fully  as  much  self- 
respect  as  they  have  coquetry,  and  who  would  regard  no 
addresses  so  offensive  as  those  that  would  reduce  them  to 
the  level  of  a  class  with  which  they  would  not  admit  com- 
panionship." 

''Bastions  of  virtue  that  I  never  ask  to  lay  siege  to!" 
broke  out  the  other,  laughing. 

"  Don't  believe  it,  Carlo.  You'd  like  the  campaign  well, 
if  you  only  knew  how  to  conduct  it.  Why,  it's  not  more 
than  a  week  ago  I  quitted  a  country-house  where  there 
were  more  really  pretty  women  than  you  could  number 
in  the  crowd  of  one  of  your  ball-rooms  on  either  Arno  or 
Tiber." 

"And,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  why  didn't  you  bring 
over  one  of  them  at  least,  to  strike  us  with  wonderment 
and  devotion  ?  " 

"Because  I  would  not  bring  envy,  malice,  and  jealousy  to 
all  south  of  tlie  Alps ;  because  I  would  not  turn  all  3^our 
heads,  or  torment  your  hearts ;  and  lastly,  because  —  she 
would  n't  come.     No,  Carlo,  she  would  n't  come." 

"  And  you  really  asked  her?" 

"Yes.  At  first  I  made  the  lamentable  blunder  of  address- 
ing her  as  I  should  one  of  your  own  dark-skinned  damsels, 
but  the  repulse  I  met  taught  me  better.  I  next  tried  the 
serious  line,  but  I  failed  there  also ;  not  hopelessly,  how- 
ever, —  at  least,  not  so  hopelessly  as  to  deter  me  from 
another  attempt.  Yes,  yes ;  I  understand  your  smile,  and 
I  know  your  theory,  —  there  never  was  a  bunch  of  grapes 
yet   that  was  worth  going  on  tiptoe  to  gather." 

"  Not  that,  but  there  are  scores  within  reach  quite  as  good 
as  one  cares  for,"  said  Caffarelli,  laughing.  "  What  are  you 
thinking  of?"  asked  he,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  was  thinking  what  possible  hope  there  was  for  a  nation 
of  twenty  millions  of  men,  with  temperament  like  yours,  — 
fellows  so  ingrained  in  indolence  that  the  first  element  they 
weigh  in  every  enterprise  was,  how  little  trouble  it  was  to 
cost  them." 

"I  declare,"  said  the  Italian,  with  more  show  of  energy, 


CONSPIRATORS.  277 

•'  I  'd  hold  life  as  cheaply  as  yourself  if  T  had  to  live  in  your 
country,  —  breathe  only  fogs,  and  inhale  nothing  pleasanter 
than  coal- smoke." 

"It  is  true,"  said  Maitland,  gravely,  "the  English  have 
not  got  climate,  —  they  have  only  weather ;  but  who  is  to 
say  if  out  of  the  vicissitudes  of  our  skies  we  do  not  derive 
that  rare  activity  which  makes  us  profit  by  every  favorable 
emergency?  " 

"  To  do  every  conceivable  thing  but  one." 

"  And  what  is  that  one?  " 

"  Enjoy  yourselves  !  Oh,  caro  amico^  you  do  with  regard 
to  your  pleasures  what  you  do  with  your  music,  —  you  steal 
a  little  from  the  Continent,  and  always  spoil  it  in  the 
adaptation." 

]Maitland  sipped  his  wine  in  half-sullen  silence  for  some 
minutes,  and  then  said,  "You  think  then,  really,  we  ought 
to  be  at  Naples?" 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  Baretti.  —  do  you  forget  Baretti?  he 
had  the  wine-shop  at  the  Qnd  of  the  Contrada  St.  Lucia." 

"  I  remember  him  as  a  Camorrista." 

"  The  same;  he  is  here  now.  He  tells  me  that  the  Court 
is  so  completely  in  the  hands  of  the  Queen  that  they  will  not 
hear  of  any  danger ;  that  they  laugh  every  time  Cavour 
is  mentioned ;  and  now  that  both  France  and  England 
liave  withdrawn  their  envoys,  the  King  says  openly,  '  It 
is  a  pleasure  to  drive  out  on  the  Chiaja  when  one 
knows  they  '11  not  meet  a  French  gendarme  or  an  English 
detective.' " 

"  And  what  does  Baretti  say  of  popular  feeling?  " 

"He  says  the  people  would  like  to  do  something,  though 
nobody  seems  to  know  what  it  ought  to  be.  They  thought 
that  Milano's  attempt  t  'other  day  was  clever,  and  they  think  it 
might  n't  be  bad  to  blow  up  the  Emperor,  or  perhaps  the  Pope, 
or  both  ;  but  he  also  says  that  the  Camorra  are  open  to  reason, 
and  that  Victor  Emmanuel  and  Cavour  are  as  legitimate  food 
for  an  explosive  shell  as  the  others;  and,  in  fact,  any  convul- 
sion that  will  smash  the  shutters  and  lead  to  pillage  must  be 
good." 

"  You  think  Baretti  can  be  depended  on?  " 

"I  know  he  can.     He  has  been  Capo  Camorrista  eight 


278  TONY  BUTLER. 

years  in  one  of  the  vilest  quarters  of  Naples ;  and  if  there 
were  a  suspicion  of  him,  he  'd  have  been  stabbed  long 
ago." 

"  And  what  is  he  doing  here?  " 

"He  came  here  to  see  whether  anything  could  be  done 
about  assassinating  the  Emperor." 

"I'd  not  have  seen  him,  Carlo.  It  was  most  unwise  to 
have  spoken  with  him." 

"  What  would  you  have?"  said  the  other,  with  a  shrug  of 
his  shoulders.  "He  came  to  set  this  clock  to  rights,  —  it 
plays  some  half-dozen  airs  from  Mercadante  and  Verdi,  — 
and  he  knows  how  to  arrange  them.  He  goes  every  morning 
to  the  Tuileries,  to  Moquard,  the  Emperor's  secretary :  he, 
too,  has  an  Italian  musical  clock,  and  he  likes  to  chat  with 
Baretti." 

"  I  distrust  these  fellows  greatly." 

"  That  is  so  English  !  "  said  Caffarelli ;  "  but  we  Italians 
have  a  finer  instinct  for  knavery,  just  as  we  have  a  finer 
ear  for  music ;  and  as  we  detect  a  false  note,  so  we  smell 
a  treachery,  where  you  John  Bulls  would  neither  suspect  one 
or  the  other.  Baretti  sees  the  Prince  Napoleon,  too,  almost 
every  day,  and  with  Pietri  he  is  like  a  brother." 

"  But  we  can  have  no  dealings  with  a  fellow  that  harbors 
such  designs." 

"  Caro  amico^  don't  you  know  by  this  time  that  no 
Italian  of  the  class  of  this  fellow  ever  imagines  any  other 
disentanglement  in  a  political  question  than  by  the  stiletto? 
It  is  you,  or  I,  or  somebody  else,  must,  as  they  phrase  it, 
'  pay  with  his  skin.'  Fortunately  for  the  world,  there  is 
more  talk  than  action  in  all  this ;  but  if  you  were  to  oppose 
it,  and  say,  '  None  of  this,'  you  VI  only  be  the  first  victim. 
We  put  the  knife  in  politics  just  as  the  Spanish  put  garlic 
in  cookery :  we  don't  know  any  other  seasoning,  and  it  has 
always  agreed  with  our  digestion." 

"  Can  Giacomo  come  in  to  wind  up  the  clock,  Eccel- 
lenza?"  said  Caffarelli's  servant,  entering  at  the  moment; 
and  as  the  Count  nodded  an  assent,  a  fat,  large,  bright- 
eyed  man  of  about  forty  entered,  with  a  mellow  frank  coun- 
tenance, and  an  air  of  happy  joyous  contentment  that  might 
have  sat  admirably  on  a  well-to-do  farmer. 


CONSPIRATORS.  279 

"Come  over  and  have  a  glass  of  wine,  Giacomo,"  said 
the  Count,  filling  a  large  glass  to  the  brim  with  Burgundy ; 
and  the  Italian  bowed  with  an  air  of  easy  politeness  first 
to  the  Count  and  next  to  Maitland,  and  then,  after  slightly 
tasting  the  liquor,  retired  a  little  distance  from  the  table, 
glass  in  hand. 

"My  friend  here,"  said  the  Count,  with  a  motion  of  his 
band  towards  Maitland,  "  is  one  of  ourselves,  Giacomo,  and 
you  may  speak  freely  before  him." 

"  I  have  seen  the  noble  signor  before,"  said  Giacomo, 
bowing  respectfully,  "at  Naples,  with  His  Royal  Highness 
the  Count  of  Syracuse." 

"The  fellow  never  forgets  a  face;  nobody  escapes  him," 
muttered  Caffarelli ;  while  he  added,  aloud,  "  Well,  there  are 
few  honester  patriots  in  Italy  than  the  Count  of  Syracuse." 

Giacomo  smiled,  and  showed  a  range  of  white  teeth,  with 
a  pleasant  air  of  acquiescence. 

"And  what  is  stirring?  —  what  news  have  you  for  us, 
Giacomo?"  asked  Caffarelli. 

"  Nothing,  Eccellenza,  — positively  nothing.  The  French 
seem  rather  to  be  growing  tired  of  us  Italians,  and  begin  to 
ask,  'What,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  do  we  really  want?* 
and  even  his  Majesty  the  Emperor  t'other  day  said  to  one 
of  ours,  '  Don't  be  importunate.'  " 

"And  will  you  tell  me  that  the  Emperor  would  admit  to 
his  presence  and  speak  with  fellows  banded  in  a  plot  against 
his  life?"    asked  Maitland,  contemptuously. 

"Does  the  noble  signor  know  that  the  Emperor  was  a 
Carbonaro  once,  and  that  he  never  forgets  it?  Does  the 
noble  signor  know  that  there  has  not  been  one  plot  against 
his  life —  not  one  —  of  which  he  has  not  been  duly  apprised 
and  warned  ?  " 

"  If  I  understand  you  aright,  Master  Giacomo,  then,  it  is 
that  these  alleged  schemes  of  assassination  are  simply  plots 
to  deliver  up  to  the  Emperor  the  two  or  three  amongst  3'ou 
who  may  be  sincere  in  their  blood thirstiness.  Is  that 
so?" 

Far  from  seeming  offended  at  the  tone  or  the  tenor  of  this 
speech,  Giacomo  smiled  good-naturedly,  and  said,  "I  per- 
ceive that  the  noble  sis:nor  is  not  well  informed  either  as 


280  TONY  BUTLER. 

to  our  objects  or  our  organization ;  nor  does  he  appear  to 
know,  as  your  Excellency  knows,  that  all  secret  societies 
have  a  certain  common  brotherhood." 

"What!  does  he  mean  when  opposed  to  each  other?" 

"He  does,  and  he  is  right,  Maitland.  As  bankers  have 
their  changing-houses,  these  fellows  have  their  appointed 
places  of  meeting ;  and  you  might  see  a  Jesuit  in  talk  with 
a  Garibaldian,  and  a  wild  revolutionist  with  one  of  the 
Pope's  household." 

"  The  real  pressure  of  these  fellows."  whispered  the  Count, 
still  lower,  "  is  menace!  Menace  it  was  brought  about  the 
war  with  Austria,  and  it  remains  to  be  seen  if  menace  can- 
not undo  its  consequences.  Killing  a  king  is  trying  an 
unknown  remedy ;  threatening  to  kill  him  is  coercing  his 
policy.  And  what  are  you  about  just  now,  Giacomo?" 
added  he,  louder. 

"Little  jobs  here  and  there,  signor,  as  I  get  them;  but 
this  morning,  as  I  was  mending  a  small  organ  at  the  Due  de 
Broglie's,  an  agent  of  the  police  called  to  say  I  had  better 
leave  Paris." 

"  And  when?  " 

"  To-night,  sir.  I  leave  by  the  midnight  mail  for  Lyons, 
and  shall  be  in  Turin  by  Saturday." 

"  And  will  the  authorities  take  his  word,  and  suffer  him  to 
go  his  road  without  surveillance?  "  whispered  Maitland. 

" -S'i,  signor!''  interposed  Giacomo,  whose  quick  Italian 
ear  had  caught  the  question.  "  I  won't  say  that  they'll  not 
telegraph  down  the  whole  line,  and  that  at  every  station  a 
due  report  will  not  be  made  of  me ;  but  I  am  prepared  for 
that,  and  I  take  good  care  not  even  to  ask  a  light  for  my 
cigar  from  any  one  who  does  not  wear  a  French  uniform." 

"  If  I  had  authority  here.  Master  Giacomo,"  said  Mait- 
land, "it's  not  you,  nor  fellows  like  you,  I'd  set  at 
liberty." 

"And  the  noble  signor  would  make  a  great  mistake, 
that's  all." 

"Why  so?" 

"  It  would  be  like  destroying  the  telegraph  wires  because 
one  received  an  unpleasant  despatch,"  said  Giacomo,  with  a 
grin. 


CONSPIRATORS.  281 

*'  The  fellow  avows,  then,  that  he  is  a  spy,  and  betrays 
his  fellows,"  whispered  Maitlaud. 

"  I  'd  be  very  sorry  to  tell  him  so,  or  hear  you  tell  him 
so,"  whispered  the  Count,  with  a  laugh. 

"Well,  Giacomo,"  added  he,  aloud,  "  I'll  not  detain  you 
longer.  We  shall  probably  be  on  t'  other  side  of  the  Alps 
ourselves  in  a  few  daj^s,  and  shall  meet  again.  A  pleasant 
journey  and  a  safe  one  to  you !  "  He  adroitly  slipped  some 
napoleons  into  the  man's  hand  as  he  spoke.  ''  Tuntl  salutl 
to  all  our  friends,  Giacomo,"  said  he,  waving  his  hand  in 
adieu ;  and  Giacomo  seized  it  and  kissed  it  twice  with  an 
almost  rapturous  devotion,   and  withdrew. 

"  Well,"  cried  Maitland,  with  an  irritable  vibration  in  his 
tone,  "  this  is  clear  and  clean  beyond  me.  What  can  you  or 
I  have  in  common  with  a  fellow  of  this  stamp ;  or  supposing 
that  we  could  have  anything,  how  should  we  trust  him  ? " 

•'Do  you  imagine  that  the  nobles  will  ever  sustain  the 
monarchy,  my  dear  Maitland ;  or  in  what  country  have  you 
ever  found  that  the  highest  in  class  were  freest  of  their 
blood?  It  is  Giacomo,  and  the  men  like  him,  who  defend 
kings  to-day  that  they  may  menace  them  to-morrow.  These 
fellows  know  well  that  with  what  is  called  a  constitutional 
government  and  a  parliament  the  king's  life  signifies  next  to 
nothing,  and  their  own  trade  is  worthless.  They  might  as 
well  shoot  a  President  of  the  Court  of  Cassation  !  Besides, 
if  we  do  not  treat  with  these  men,  the  others  will.  Take  my 
word  for  it,  our  king  is  wiser  than  either  of  us,  and  he  never 
despised  the  Camorra.  But  I  know  what  you  're  afraid  of, 
Maitland,"  said  he,  laughing,  —  "what  you  and  all  3'our 
countrymen  tremble  before,  — that  precious  thing  you  call 
public  opinion,  and  your  'Times'  newspaper!  There's  the 
whole  of  it.  To  be  arraigned  as  a  regicide,  and  called  the 
companion  of  this,  that,  or  t'  other  creature,  who  was  or 
ought  to  have  been  guillotined,  is  too  great  a  shock  for  your 
Anglican  respectability ;  and  really  I  had  fancied  you  were 
Italian  enough  to  take  a  different  view  of  this." 

Maitland  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  seemed  to  muse 
for  some  minutes.  "  Do  you  know.  Carlo,"  said  he,  at  last, 
"  I  don't  think  I  'm  made  for  this  sort  of  thing.  This  frater- 
nizing  with   scoundrels  —  for    scoundrels   they   are  —  is   a 


282  TONY  BUTLER. 

rude  lesson.  This  waitiug  for  the  mot  Wordre  from  a  set  of 
fellows  who  work  in  the  dark  is  not  to  my  humor.  I  had 
hoped  for  a  fair  stand-up  fight,  where  the  best  man  should 
win;  and  what  do  we  see  before  us?  Not  the  cause  of  a 
throne  defended  by  the  men  who  are  loyal  to  their  king,  but 
a  vast  lottery,  out  of  which  any  adventurer  is  to  draw  the 
prize.  So  far  as  I  can  see  it,  we  are  to  go  into  a  revolution 
to  secure  a  monarchy." 

Caffarelli  leaned  across  the  table  and  filled  Maitland's  glass 
to  the  brim,  and  then  replenished  his  own. 

"  Caro  mio^''  said  he,  coaxingly,  ''  don't  brood  and 
despond  in  this  fashion,  but  tell  me  about  this  charming 
Irish  beauty.     Is  she  a  brunette  ?  " 

"No;  fair  as  a  lily,  but  not  like  the  blond  damsels  you 
have  so  often  seen,  with  a  certain  timidity  of  look  that  tells 
of  weak  and  uncertain  purpose.  She  might  by  her  air  and 
beauty  be  a  queen." 

"  And  her  name?" 

"  Alice  —  Alicia,  some  call  it." 

"  Alice  is  better.  And  how  came  she  to  be  a  widow  so 
very  young?     What  is  her  story?" 

"I  know  nothing  of  it;  how  should  I?  I  could  tell 
nothing  of  my  own,"  said  Maitland,  sternly. 

"  Rich  as  well  as  beautiful,  — what  a  prize,  Maitland  !  I 
can  scarcely  imagine  why  you  hesitate  about  securing  it." 

Maitland  gave  a  scornful  laugh,  and  with  a  voice  of  bitter- 
ness said:  "Certainly  my  pretensions  are  great.  I  have 
fortune  —  station  —  family  —  name  —  and  rank  to  offer  her. 
Can  you  not  remind  me.  Carlo,  of  some  other  of  my  immense 
advantages?" 

"I  know  this  much,"  said  the  other,  doggedly,  "that  I 
never  saw  you  fail  in  anything  you  ever  attempted." 

"I  had  the  trick  of  success  once,"  said  Maitland,  sor- 
rowfully, "  but  I  seem  to  have  lost  it.  But,  after  all, 
what  would  success  do  for  me  here,  but  stamp  me  as  an 
adventurer?  " 

"  You  did  not  argue  in  that  fashion  two  years  ago,  when 
you  were  going  to  marry  a  Spanish  princess,  and  the  half- 
sister  of  a  queen." 

"Well,  I  have  never  regretted  that  I  broke  off  the  match. 


CONSPIRATORS.  283 

It  estranged  me,  of  course,  from  him;  and  indeed  he  has 
never  forgiven  me." 

"  He  might,  however,  now,  if  he  saw  that  you  could  estab- 
lish your  fortunes  so  favorably,  — don't  you  think  so?" 

"  No,  Carlo.  It  is  all  for  rank  and  title,  not  for  money, 
that  he  cares !  His  whole  game  in  life  was  played  for  the 
Peerage.  He  wanted  to  be  '  My  Lord  ; '  and  though  repeat- 
edly led  to  believe  he  was  to  have  the  title,  the  Minister  put 
off,  and  put  off,  and  at  last  fell  from  power  without  keeping 
his  pledge.  Now  in  this  Spanish  business  he  bargained  that 
I  was  to  be  a  Duke,  —  a  Grandee  of  Spain.  The  Queen 
declared  it  impossible.  Munos  himself  was  refused.  The 
dukedom,  however,  I  could  have.  With  the  glitter  of  that 
ducal  coronet  before  his  eyes,  he  paid  three  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  I  lost  at  the  Jockey  Club  in  Paris,  and  he  merely 
said,  '  Your  luck  in  love  has  been  somewhat  costly,  —  don't 
play  such  high  stakes  again.'  " 

"He  is  tres  (jrand  seigneur!'*  said  the  Italian,  with  a 
voice  of  intense  admiration  and  respect. 

''Yes,"  said  Maitland;  ''in  every  case  where  mere  money 
enters,  he  is  princely.  I  never  met  a  man  who  thought  less 
of  his  gold.  The  strange  thing  is,  that  it  is  his  ambition 
which  exhibits  him  so  small!  " 

"Adagio,  adagio,  caro  mio!"  cried  Caffarelli,  laughing. 
"I  see  where  you  are  bound  for  now.  You  are  going  to  tell 
me,  as  you  have  some  score  of  times,  that  to  all  English 
estimation  our  foreign  titles  are  sheer  nonsense;  that  our 
pauper  counts  and  beggarly  dukes  are  laughing  matter  for 
even  your  Manchester  folk;  and  that  in  your  police  code 
baron  and  blackleg  are  synonyms.  Now  spare  me  all  this, 
caro  Maitland,  for  I  know  it  by  heart." 

"If  one  must  say  such  impertinences,  it  is  well  to  say 
them  to  a  cardinal's  nephew." 

The  slight  flush  of  temper  in  the  Italian's  cheek  gave  way 
at  once,  and  he  asked  good-humoredly,  as  he  said,  "  Better 
say  them  to  me,  certainly,  than  to  my  uncle.  But,  to  be 
practical,  if  he  does  attach  so  much  importance  to  rank  and 
title,  why  do  you  not  take  that  countship  of  Amalfi  the 
King  offered  you  six  months  ago,  and  which,  to  this  day,  he 
is  in  doubt  whether  you  have  accepted  or  refused  ? " 


284  TONY  BUTLER. 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  asked  Maitland,  eagerly. 

"I  know  it  in  this  wise;  that  when  his  Majesty  mentioned 
your  name  t'  other  day  to  Filangieri,  he  said,  '  The  Chevalier 
Maitlan(^  or  Count  of  Amalfi,  —  I  don't  know  by  which 
name  he  likes  to  call  himself.'" 

"Are  you  sure  of  this?  " 

"I  heard  it;  I  was  present  when  he  said  it." 

"If  I  did  not  accept  when  it  was  offered,  the  reason  was 
this:  I  thought  that  the  first  time  I  wrote  myself  Count  of 
Amalfi,  old  Santarelli  would  summon  me  before  him  to  show 
birth  and  parentage,  and  fifty  other  particulars  which  I  could 
have  no  wish  to  see  inquired  after;  and  as  the  title  of 
Amalfi  was  one  once  borne  by  a  cadet  of  the  royal  family, 
he  'd  have  been  all  the  more  exacting  in  his  perquisitions 
before  inscribing  my  name  in  that  precious  volume  he  calls 
the  '  Libro  d'Oro.'  If,  however,  you  tell  me  that  the  King 
considers  that  I  have  accepted  the  rank,  it  gives  the  matter 
another  aspect." 

"I  suspect  poor  old  Santarelli  has  very  little  heart  for 
herakhy  just  now.  He  has  got  a  notion  that  the  first  man 
the  Revolutionists  will  hang  will  be  himself,  representing, 
as  he  does,  all  the  privileges  of  feudalism." 

"There  is  one  way  to  do  it  if  it  could  be  managed,"  said 
Maitland,  pondering.  "Three  lines  in  the  King's  hand, 
addressing  me  '  The  Chevalier  Maitland,  Count  of  Amalfi!  ' 
With  these  I  'd  defy  all  the  heralds  that  ever  carried  a 
painted  coat  in  a  procession." 

"If  that  be  all,  I'll  promise  you  it.  I  am  writing  to 
Filangieri  to-morrow.  Let  me  have  some  details  of  what 
men  you  have  recruited  and  what  services  you  have  ren- 
dered, briefly,  not  formally;  and  I'll  say,  'If  our  master 
would  vouchsafe  in  his  own  hand  a  line,  a  word  even,  to  the 
Count  of  Amalfi,  it  would  be  a  recompense  he  would  not 
exchange  for  millions.'  I  '11  say  '  that  the  letter  could  be 
sent  to  Ludolf  at  Turin,  where  we  shall  probably  be  in  a 
week  or  two.'  " 

"And  do  you  think  the  King  will  accede?" 

"Of  course  he  will.  We  are  not  asking  for  a  pension,  or 
leave  to  shoot  at  Caserta.  The  thing  is  the  same  as  done. 
Kings  like  a  cheap  road  out  of  their  indebtedness  as  well 


CONSPIRATORS.  '  285 

as  humbler  people.  If  not,  they  would  never  have  invented 
crosses  and  grand  cordons." 

"Now,  let  us  concoct  the  thing  regularly,"  said  Maitland, 
pushing  the  decanters  from  before  him,  as  though,  by  a 
gesture,  to  show  that  he  had  turned  from  all  conviviality  to 
serious  considerations.  '"You,"  continued  he,  "will,  first 
of  all,  write  to  Filangieri." 

"Yes.  I  will  say,  half  incidentally,  as  it  were,  Maitland 
is  here  with  me,  as  eager  as  the  warmest  of  us  in  the  cause. 
He  has  been  eminently  successful  in  his  recruitment,  of 
which  he  will  soon  send  you  details  —  " 

"Ay,  but  how?  That  fellow  M'Caskey,  who  has  all  the 
papers,  did  not  meet  me  as  I  ordered  him,  and  I  cannot  tell 
where  he  is." 

"I  am  to  blame  for  this,  Maitland,  for  I  ordered  him  to 
come  over  here,  as  the  most  certain  of  all  ways  of  seeing 
you." 

"And  he  is  here  now?" 

"Yes.  Arrived  last  night.  In  the  hope  of  your  arrival, 
I  gave  him  a  rendezvous  here  —  any  hour  from  ten  to  one  or 
two  to-night  —  and  we  shall  soon  see  him." 

"I  must  confess,  I  don't  care  how  brief  the  interview  be: 
the  man  is  not  at  all  to  my  liking." 

"You  are  not  likely  to  be  much  bored  by  him  here,  at 
least." 

"How  do  you  mean?  " 

"The  police  are  certain  to  hear  of  his  arrival,  and  to  give 
him  a  friendly  hint  to  arrange  his  private  affairs  with  all 
convenient  despatch  and  move  off." 

"With  what  party  or  section  do  they  connect  him?  " 

"With  how  many?  you  might  perhaps  ask;  for  I  take  it 
he  has  held  office  with  every  shade  of  opinion,  and  intrigued 
for  any  cause  from  Henry  V.  to  the  reddest  republicanism. 
The  authorities,  however,  always  deal  with  a  certain  cour- 
tesy to  a  man  of  this  sort.  They  intimate,  simply.  We  are 
aware  you  are  here, —  we  know  pretty  well  for  what;  and  so 
don't  push  us  to  any  disagreeable  measures,  but  cross  over 
into  Belgium  or  Switzerland.  M'Caskey  himself  told  me 
he  was  recognized  as  he  drew  up  at  the  hotel,  and,  in  conse- 
quence, thinks  he  shall  have  to  go  on  in  a  day  or  two." 


286  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Is  uot  the  fellow's  vanity  in  some  measure  a  reason  for 
this?  Does  he  not  rather  plume  himself  on  being  Vhonime 
dangereux  to  all  Europe  ?  " 

"  In  conversation  he  would  certainly  give  this  idea,  but 
not  in  fact.  He  is  marvellously  adroit  in  all  his  dealings 
with  the  authorities,  and  in  nothing  is  he  more  subtle  than 
in  the  advantage  he  takes  of  his  own  immense  conceit.  He 
invariably  makes  it  appear  that  vanity  is  his  weak  point; 
or,  as  he  phrases  it  himself,  '  I  always  show  my  adversary  so 
much  of  my  hand  as  will  mislead  him.'  " 

''And  is  he  really  as  deep  as  all  this  would  imply?" 

"Very  deep  for  an  Englishman;  fully  able  to  cope  with 
the  cunningest  of  his  own  people,  but  a  child  amongst  ours, 
Maitland." 

Maitland  laughed  scornfully  as  he  said,  "For  the  real 
work  of  life  all  your  craft  avails  little.  No  man  ever  cut 
his  way  through  a  wood  with  a  penknife,  were  it  ever  so 
sharp." 

"The  Count  M'Caskey,  Eccellenza,  desires  to  know  if 
you  receive?"  said  Caffarelli's  servant,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Yes,  certainly;  but  do  not  admit  any  one  else." 

Very  significant  —  but  very  differently  significant  —  were 
the  looks  that  passed  between  Maitland  and  Caffarelli  in  the 
brief  interval  before  M'Caskey  entered.  At  last  the  door 
was  flung  wide,  and  the  distinguished  Major  appeared  in 
full  evening  dress,  one  side  of  his  coat  a  blaze  of  stars  and 
crosses,  while  in  front  of  his  cravat  he  wore  the  ribbon  and 
collar  of  some  very  showy  order.  Nothing  could  be  easier 
than  his  entree;  nothing  less  embarrassed  than  his  saluta- 
tion to  each  in  turn,  as,  throwing  his  white  gloves  into  his 
hat,  he  drew  over  to  the  table,  and  began  to  search  for  an 
unused  wine-glass. 

"Here  is  a  glass,"  said  Caffarelli.  "  What  will  3'ou  drink ? 
This  is  Bordeaux,  and  this  is  some  sort  of  Hock;  this  is 
Moselle." 

"Hand  me  the  sherry;  I  am  chilly.  I  have  been  chilly 
all  day,  and  went  out  to  dine  against  my  will." 

"Where  did  you  dine?" 

"With  Plon-Plon,"  said  he,  languidly. 

"With  the  Prince  Napoleon?"  asked  Maitland,  incredu- 
lously. 


CONSPIRATORS.  287 

**Yes;  he  insisted  on  it.  I  wrote  to  him  to  say  that  La 
Verrier,  the  sous-prefect,  had  invited  me  to  make  as  short 
a  delay  at  Paris  as  was  consistent  with  my  perfect  conven- 
ience, —  the  police  euphuism  for  twenty-four  hours ;  and  I 
said,  '  Pray  excuse  me  at  dinner,  for  I  shall  want  to  see 
Caffarelli. '  But  he  would  n't  take  any  apology,  and  I  went, 
and  we  really  were  very  pleasant." 

"Who  was  there?"  asked  Caffarelli. 

''Only  seven  altogether:  Bagration  and  his  pretty  niece; 
an  Aldobrandini  Countess, — bygone,  but  still  handsome; 
Joseph  Poniatowsky;  Botrain  of  'La  Patrie;'  and  your 
humble  servant.  Fould,  I  think,  was  expected,  but  did  not 
come.     Fearfully  hot,  this  sherry,  — don't  you  think  so?" 

Maitland  looked  superbly  defiant,  and  turned  his  head 
away  without  ceremony.  Caffarelli,  however,  came  quickly 
to  the  rescue  by  pushing  over  a  bottle  of  Burgundy,  and 
saying,  "And  it  was  a  pleasant  party?  " 

"Yes,  decidedly  pleasant,"  said  M'Caskey,  with  the  air 
of  one  pronouncing  a  judicial  opinion.  "The  women  were 
nice,  very  well  dressed,  —  the  little  Russian,  especially;  and 
then  we  talked  away  as  people  only  do  talk  in  Paris,  where 
there  is  none  of  that  rotten  cant  of  London,  and  no  subject 
discussed  but  the  little  trivialities  of  daily  life." 

Caffarelli's  eyes  sparkled  with  mischievous  delight  as  he 
watched  the  expansive  vanity  in  M'Caskey's  face,  and  the 
disgust  that  darkened  in  Maitland' s.  "We  had  a  little  of 
everything,"  said  M'Caskey,  with  his  head  thrown  back 
and  two  fingers  of  one  hand  jauntily  stuck  in  his  waistcoat 
pocket-  "We  had  politics, — Plon-Plon's  own  peculiar 
politics,  — Europe  a  democracy,  and  himself  the  head  of  it. 
We  discussed  dinners  and  dinner-givers,  —  a  race  fast  dying 
out.     We  talked  a  little  finance,  and,  lastly,  women." 

"Your  own  theme!  "  said  Caffarelli,  with  a  slight  inclina- 
tion of  the  head. 

"Without  vanity  I  might  say  it  was.  Poor  old  D'Orsay 
always  said,  '  Scratch  M'Caskey,  and  I'll  back  myself  for 
success  against  any  man  in  Europe.'  " 

Maitland  started  as  if  a  viper  had  bitten  him;  but  by  an 
effort  he  seemed  to  restrain  himself,  and,  taking  out  his 
cigar-case,  began  a  diligent  search  for  a  cigar. 


288  TONY  BUTLER. 

*'Ha,  cheroots,  I  see?  "  cried  M'Caskey;  "cheroots  are  a 
weakness  of  mine.  Pick  me  out  a  well-spotted  one,  will 
you  ?  " 

Maitland  threw  the  case  as  it  was  across  the  table  to  him 
without  a  word. 

M'Caskey  selected  some  six  or  eight,  and  laid  them  beside 
him.  "You  are  low,  depressed,  this  evening,  Maitland," 
said  he;  "what 's  the  matter  with  you?  " 

"No,  sir,  not  depressed,  — disgusted." 

"Ah,  disgusted!"  said  M'Caskey,  slowly;  and  his  small 
eyes  twinkled  like  two  balls  of  fire.  "Would  it  be  indis- 
creet to  ask  the  cause?  " 

"It  would  be  very  indiscreet,  Count  M'Caskey,"  inter- 
posed Caffarelli,  "  to  forget  that  you  are  here  purely  on  a 
grave  matter  of  business,  —  far  too  grave  to  be  compromised 
by  any  forgetfulness  on  the  score  of  temper." 

"Yes,  sir,"  broke  in  Maitland;  "there  can  alwa^-s  be 
found  a  fitting  time  and  place  to  arrange  any  small  ques- 
tions outstanding  between  you  and  me.  We  want  now  to 
learn  something  of  what  you  have  done  in  Ireland  lately, 
for  the  King's  service." 

M'Caskey  drew  from  his  pocket  a  much- worn  pocket-book, 
crammed  to  bursting  with  a  variety  of  loose  papers,  cards, 
and  photographs,  which  fell  about  as  he  opened  it.  Not 
heeding  the  disorder,  he  sought  out  a  particular  page,  and 
read  aloud:  "Embarked  this  twenty-second  of  September, 
at  Gravesend,  on  board  the  '  Ocean  Queen,'  bound  for 
Messina  with  machinery,  two  hundred  and  eleven  laborers 
—  laborers  engaged  for  two  years  —  to  work  on  the  State 
railroads,  twenty-eight  do.  do.  on  board  of  the  '  Star  of 
Swansea,'  for  Molo  de  Gaeta  with  coals, —  making,  with 
three  hundred  and  eighty-two  already  despatched,  within 
about  thirty  of  the  first  battalion  of  the  Cacciatori  of  St. 
Patrick." 

"Well  done!  bravissimo!"  cried  Caffarelli,  right  glad  to 
seize  upon  the  opportunity  to  restore  a  pleasanter  under- 
standing. 

"There  's  not  a  man  amongst  them  would  not  be  taken  in 
the  Guards ;  and  they  who  regard  height  of  stature  as  the 
first  element  of  the  soldier  —  amongst  whom  I  am  not  one  — 
would  pronounce  them  magnificent!  " 


CONSPIRATORS.  289 

"And  are  many  more  available  of  the  same  sort?"  asked 
Caffarelli. 

"Ten  thousand,  sir,  if  you  like  to  pay  for  them." 

"Do  these  men  understand  that  they  are  enlisted  as  sol- 
diers, not  engaged  as  navvies?"  asked  Maitland. 

"As  well  as  you  do.  Whatever  our  friend  Caffarelli  may 
think,  I  can  tell  him  that  my  countrymen  are  no  more  defi- 
cient in  acuteness  than  his  own.  These  fellows  know  the 
cause  just  as  well  as  they  know  the  bounty." 

"I  was  not  inquiring  as  to  their  sympathies,"  said  Mait- 
land, caustically;  "I  merely  wanted  to  hear  how  they  under- 
stood the  contract." 

"They  are  hirelings,  of  course,  as  I  am,  and  as  you  are," 
said  M'Caskey. 

"By  what  presumption,  sir,  do  you  speak  of  me?"  said 
Maitland,  rising,  his  face  dark  with  passion.  "If  the  acci- 
dents of  life  range  us  in  the  same  cause,  is  there  any  other 
tie  or  bond  between  us  ?  " 

"Once  more  I  declare  I  will  have  none  of  this,"  said 
Caffarelli,  pushing  Maitland  down  into  his  chair.  "Count 
M'Caskey,  the  Central  Committee  have  placed  you  under 
my  orders.  These  orders  are  that  you  report  yourself  to 
General  Filangieri  at  Naples  as  soon  as  you  can  arrive  there ; 
that  you  duly  inform  the  Minister  at  War  of  what  steps 
you  have  already  taken  in  the  recruitment,  putting  your- 
self at  his  disposition  for  further  service.  Do  you  want 
money  ?  "  added  he  in  a  lower  tone,  as  he  drew  the  Major 
aside. 

"A  man  always  wants  money,  sir,"  said  M'Caskey, 
sententiously. 

"I  am  your  banker:  what  shall  it  be?"  said  Caffarelli, 
drawing  out  his  pocket-book. 

"For  the  present,"  said  M'Caskey,  carelessly,  "a  couple 
of  thousand  francs  will  suffice.  I  have  a  rather  long  bill 
against  his  Majesty,  but  it  can  wait." 

He  pocketed  the  notes  without  deigning  to  look  at  them, 
and  then,  drawing  closer  to  Caffarelli,  said,  in  a  whisper, 
"  You  '11  have  to  keep  your  friend  yonder  somewhat  '  better 
in  hand,' — you  will,  really.  If  not,  I  shall  have  to  shoot 
him." 

19 


290  TONY  BUTLER. 

"The  Chevalier  Maitlaud  is  your  superior  officer,  sir," 
said  Caffarelli,  haughtily.  "Take  care  how  you  speak  of 
him  to  any  oue,  but  more  especially  to  me,  who  am  his 
friend." 

"I  am  at  his  '  friend's'  orders,  equally,"  said  the  Major; 
"my  case  contains  two  pistols." 

Caffarelli  turned  away  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulder,  and 
a  look  that  unmistakably  bespoke  disgust. 

"Here  goes,  then,  for  the  stirrup-cup!"  said  M'Caskey, 
filling  a  large  goblet  with  Burgundy.  "To  our  next  meet- 
ing, gentlemen,"  and  he  bowed  as  he  lifted  it  to  his  lips. 
"Won't  you  drink  to  my  toast?"  said  he,  stopping. 

Caffarelli  filled  his  glass,  and  touched  it  to  his  lips;  but 
Maitland  sat  with  his  gaze  bent  upon  the  fire,  and  never 
looked  up. 

"  Present  my  homage  to  the  pretty  widow  when  you  see 
her,  Maitland,  and  give  her  that;"  and  he  flung  down  a 
photograph  on  the  table.  "It's  not  a  good  one,  but  it  will 
serve  to  remind  her  of  me." 

Maitland  seized  the  card  and  pitched  it  into  the  fire, 
pressing  down  the  embers  with  his  boot. 

Caffarelli  sprang  forward,  and  laid  his  hands  on  M'Cas- 
key's  shoulders. 

"When  and  where?"  said  the  Major,  calmly. 

"Now  —  here  —  if  you  like,"  said  Maitland,  as  calmh\ 

"At  last,"  said  a  deep  voice;  and  a  brigadier  of  the  gen- 
darmerie entered,  followed  by  two  of  his  men. 

"M.  le  Comte,"  said  he,  addressing  the  Major,  "I  have 
been  in  search  of  you  since  eleven  o'clock.  There  's  a  spe- 
\  cial  train  waiting  to  convey  you  to  Macon;  pray  don't 
I      lose  any  more  time." 

"I  shall  be  at  Naples  within  a  fortnight,"  whispered 
Maitland. 

"All  right,"  replied  M'Caskey.  "M,  le  Brigadier,  a  ros 
orclres.  Good-bye,  Count.  By  the  way,  I  was  forgetting 
my  cheroots,  which  are  really  excellent ;  "  and  so  saying, 
he  carefully  placed  them  in  his  cigar-case;  and  then,  giving 
his  great-coat  to  one  of  the  gendarmes  to  assist  him  while 
he  drew  it  on,  he  waved  a  little  familiar  adieu  with  his 
hand  and  departed. 


CONSPIRATORS.  291 

"My  dear  Maitland,  bow  could  you  so  far  forget  yourself, 
and  with  such  a  man?"  said  Caffarelli,  laying  his  hands 
on  his  shoulder. 

"With  any  other  man  I  could  not  have  forgotten  myself," 
said  he,  sternly.     "Let  us  think  no  more  of  him." 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

TWO     FRIENDS. 

It  was  like  a  return  to  his  former  self  —  to  his  gay,  happy, 
careless  nature  —  for  Tony  Butler  to  find  himself  with  his 
friend  Skeffy.  As  painters  lay  layers  of  the  same  color  on, 
one  over  the  other,  to  deepen  the  effect,  so  does  youth 
double  itself  by  companionship.  As  for  Skeffy,  never  did 
a  schoolboy  exult  more  in  a  holiday;  and,  like  a  schoolboy, 
his  spirits  boiled  over  in  all  manner  of  small  excesses, 
practical  jokes  on  his  fellow-passengers,  and  all  those 
glorious  tomfooleries,  to  be  able  to  do  which  with  zest  is 
worth  all  the  enjoyment  that  ever  cynicism  yielded  twice 
told. 

"I  was  afraid  you  would  n't  come.  I  did  n't  see  you  when 
the  coach  drove  into  the  inn-yard;  and  I  was  so  disap- 
pointed," said  Tony,  as  he  surveyed  the  mass  of  luggage 
which  the  guard  seemed  never  to  finish  depositing  before 
his  friend. 

"Two  portmanteaus,  sir,"  said  the  guard,  "three  carpet- 
bags, a  dressing-case,  a  hat-box,  a  gun-case,  bundle  of  sticks 
and  umbrellas,  and  I  think  this  parrot  and  cage  are  yours." 

"A  parrot,  Skeffy!" 

"For  Mrs.  Maxwell,  you  dog;  she  loves  parrots,  and  I 
gave  ten  guineas  for  that  beggar,  because  they  assured  me 
he  could  positively  keep  up  a  conversation;  and  the  only 
thing  he  can  say  is,  '  Don't  you  wish  you  may  get  it?  '  " 

No  sooner  had  the  bird  heard  the  words  than  he  screamed 
them  out  with  a  wild  and  scornful  cry  that  made  them  sound 
like  a  bitter  mockery. 

"  There,  —  that 's  at  m^,"  whispered  Skeffy,  —  "at  me  and 
my  chance  of  Tilney.  I  'm  half  inclined  to  wring  his  neck 
when  I  hear  it." 


TWO   FRIENDS.  293 

"Are  you  looking  for  any  one,  Harris?  "  asked  Tony  of 
a  servant  in  livery  who  had  just  ridden  into  the  yard. 

"Yes,  sir;  I  have  a  letter  from  my  mistress  for  a  gentle- 
man that  was  to  have  come  by  the  mail." 

"Here  he  is,"  said  Tony,  as  he  glanced  at  the  address. 
"This  is  Mr.  Skellhigton  Darner." 

While  Skeffy  broke  the  seal,  Tony  muttered  in  his  ear, 
"Mind,  old  fellow,  you  are  to  come  to  us  before  you  go  to 
Tilney,  no  matter  how  pressing  she  may  be." 

"Here's  a  business,"  said  Skeffy;  "as  well  as  I  can 
make  out  her  old  pothooks,  it  is  that  she  can't  receive  me. 
'My  dear,'  —  she  first  wrote  'Nephew,'  but  it's  smudged 
out,  — '  My  dear  Cousin  Damer,  I  am  much  distressed  to 
tell  you  that  you  must  not  come  here.  It  is  the  scarlatina, 
which  the  doctors  all  think  highly  infectious,  though  we 
burn  cinnamon  and  that  other  thing  through  all  the  rooms. 
My  advice  would  be  to  go  to  Harrogate,  or  some  nice  place, 
to  amuse  yourself,  and  I  enclose  this  piece  of  thin  paper.' 
Where  is  it,  though?"  said  he,  opening  the  letter  and 
shaking  it.  "Just  think  of  the  old  woman  forgetting  to 
put  up  the  enclosure !  " 

"  Try  the  envelope !  "  cried  Tony,  eagerly ;  but,  no,  the 
envelope  was  also  empty,  and  it  was  plain  enough  she  had 
omitted  it. 

Skeffy  read  on:  "'I  had  a  very  pretty  pony  for  you 
here ;  and  I  remember  Lydia  Damer  told  me  how  nice  you 
looked  riding,  with  the  long  curls  down  your  back.'  Why, 
that  was  five-and-twenty  years  ago!"  cried  he,  with  a 
scream  of  laughter,  — "just  fancy,  Tony!  "  and  he  ran  his 
fingers  through  his  hair.  "How  am  I  ever  to  keep  up  the 
illusion  with  this  crop  I  '  But,'  "  —  he  went  on  to  read,  — 
"  '  but  T  suppose  I  shall  not  see  that  now.  I  shall  be 
eighty-one  next  November.  Mind  that  you  drink  my  health 
on  the  22nd,  if  I  be  alive.  I  could  send  you  the  pony  if 
you  thought  it  would  not  be  too  expensive  to  keep  him  in 
London.  Tilney  is  looking  beautiful,  and  the  trees  are 
budding  as  if  it  were  spring.  Drop  me  a  line  before  you 
leave  the  neighborhood;  and  believe  me,  your  affectionate 
godmother, 

*'  'Dinah  Maxwell.' 


294  TONY  BUTLER. 

"I  think  I  had  better  say  I'll  send  an  answer,"  said 
Skeffy,  as  he  crumpled  up  the  letter;  "and  as  to  the 
enclosure  —  " 

A  wild  scream  and  some  unintelligible  utterance  broke 
from  the  parrot  at  this  instant. 

"Yes,  you  beggar,  '  you  wish  I  may  get  it.'  By  the  way, 
the  servant  can  take  that  fellow  back  with  him;  I  am  right 
glad  to  be  rid  of  him." 

"It 's  the  old  adage  of  the  ill  wind,"  said  Tony,  laughing. 

"  How  so  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  mean  that  your  ill-luck  is  our  good  fortune;  for  as 
you  can't  go  to  Tilney,  you  '11  have  to  stay  the  longer 
with  us.^ 

Skeffy  seized  his  hand  and  gave  it  a  cordial  shake,  and 
the  two  young  fellows  looked  fully  and  frankly  at  each 
other,  as  men  do  look  before  the  game  of  life  has  caught 
too  strong  a  hold  upon  their  hearts,  and  taught  them  over- 
anxiety  to  rise  winners  from  it. 

"Now,  then,  for  your  chateau,"  said  Skeffy,  as  he  leaped 
up  on  the  car,  already  half  hidden  beneath  his  luggage. 

"Our  chateau  is  a  thatched  cabin,"  said  Tony,  blushing 
in  spite  of  all  his  attempts  to  seem  at  ease.  "It  is  only  a 
friend  would  have  heart  to  face  its  humble  fare." 

Not  heeding,  if  he  even  heard  the  remark,  Skeffy  rattled 
on  about  everything,  —  past,  present,  and  future ;  talked  of 
their  jolly  dinner  at  Richmond,  and  of  each  of  their  com- 
panions on  that  gay  day ;  asked  the  names  of  the  various 
places  they  passed  on  the  road,  what  were  the  usual  for- 
tunes of  the  proprietors,  how  they  spent  them;  and,  seldom 
waiting  for  the  answer,  started  some  new  query,  to  be  for- 
gotten in  its  turn. 

"It  is  a  finer  country  to  ride  over,"  said  Tony,  anxious 
to  say  something  favorable  for  his  locality,  "than  to  look 
at.  It  is  not  pretty,  perhaps,  but  there  's  plenty  of  grass, 
and  no  end  of  stone  walls  to  jump,  and  in  the  season  there  's 
some  capital  trout-fishing  too." 

"Don't  care  a  copper  for  either.  I'd  rather  see  a  new 
pantomime  than  the  best  stag-hunt  in  Europe.  I  'd  rather 
see  Tom  Salter  do  the  double  spring  backwards  than  I  'd 
see  them  take  a  whale." 


TWO   FRIENDS.  295 

"I  'm  not  of  your  mind,  then,"  said  Tony.  "I  'd  rather 
be  out  on  the  hillside  of  a  dull,  good-scenting  day,  —  well 
mounted,  of  course,  —  and  hear  the  dogs  as  they  rushed 
yelping  through  the  cover." 

"Yoics,  yoics,  yoics!  I  saw  it  all  at  Astley's,  and  they 
took  a  gate  in  rare  style.  But,  I  say,  what  is  that  tower 
yonder,  topping  the  trees?" 

"That  is  Lyle  Abbey,  — Sir  Arthur  Lyle's  place." 

"Lyle,  — Lyle.  There  was  such  a  picture  in  the  Exhibi- 
tion last  year  of  two  sisters,  Maud,  or  Alice,  or  Bella  Lyle, 
and  another,  by  Watts.  I  used  to  go  every  morning,  before 
I  went  down  to  the  office,  to  have  a  look  at  them,  and  I  never 
was  quite  certain  which  I  was  in  love  with." 

"They  are  here  I  they  are  Sir  Arthur's  daughters." 

"You  don't  say  so!     And  do  you  know  them,  Tony?" 

"As  well  as  if  they  were  my  sisters." 

"Ain't  I  in  luck!"  cried  Skeffy,  in  exultation.  "I'd 
have  gone  to  Tarnoff,  —  that 's  the  place  Holmes  was  named 
consul  at,  —  and  wrote  back  word  that  it  did  n't  exist,  and 
that  the  geography  fellows  were  only  hoaxing  the  office!  just 
fancy,  hoaxing  the  office !  HuUoa !  —  what  have  we  here  ?  A 
four-horse  team,  by  all  that's  stunning." 

"Mrs.  Trafford's.  Draw  up  at  the  side  of  the  road  till 
they  pass,  Peter,"  said  Ton}^,  hurriedly.  The  servant  on 
the  box  of  the  carriage  had,  however,  apparently  announced 
Tony  Butler's  presence,  for  the  postilions  slackened  their  pace, 
and  came  to  a  dead  halt  a  few  paces  in  front  of  the  car. 

"  My  mistress,  sir,  would  be  glad  to  speak  to  you,"  said 
the  servant,  approaching  Tony. 

"Is  she  alone,  Coles?"  asked  he,  as  he  descended  from 
the  car. 

"Yes,  sir." 

Somewhat  reassured  by  this,  but  at  the  same  time  not  a 
little  agitated,  Tony  drew  nigh  the  carriage.  Mrs.  Trafford 
was  wrapped  up  in  a  large  fur  mantle,  —  the  day  was  a  cold 
one, — and  lay  back  without  making  any  movement  to 
salute,  except  a  slight  bend  of  the  head  as  he  approached. 

"  I  have  to  apologize  for  stopping  you,"  said  she,  coldly; 
"  but  I  had  a  message  to  give  you  from  Mr.  Maitland,  who 
left  this  a  couple  of  days  ago." 


296  TONY  BUTLER. 

*'Is  he  gone, — gone  for  good?"  asked  Tony,  not  really 
knowing  what  he  said. 

"1  don't  exactly  know  what  'for  good'  means,"  said 
she,  smiling  faintly;  "  but  I  believe  he  has  not  any  inten- 
tion to  return  here.  His  message  was  to  say  that,  being 
much  pressed  for  time,  he  had  not  an  opportunity  to  reply 
to  your  note." 

"I  don't  think  it  required  an  answer,"  broke  in  Tony, 
sternly. 

"Perhaps  not  as  regarded  you,  but  possiblj'  it  did  as 
respected  himself." 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 

*'  What  1  mean  is,  that,  as  you  had  declined  his  offer,  you 
might  possibly,  from  inadvertence  or  any  other  cause, 
allude  to  it ;  whereas  he  expressly  wished  that  the  subject 
sbould  never  be  mentioned." 

"You  were  apparently  very  much  in  his  confidence?" 
said  Tony,  fixing  his  eyes  steadily  on  her. 

"  When  I  learn  by  what  right  you  ask  me  that  question, 
I  '11  answer  it,"  said  she,  just  as  defiantly. 

Tony's  face  became  crimson,  and  he  could  not  utter  a 
word.  At  last  he  stammered  out,  "  I  have  a  friend  here,  — 
Mr.  Damer :  he  is  just  come  over  to  pay  a  visit  at  Tilney, 
and  ^Irs.  Maxwell  sends  him  a  note  to  say  that  they  are  all 
ill  there." 

"  Only  Bella,  and  she  is  better." 

"  And  was  Bella  ill?  "  asked  Tony,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  since  Tuesday  or  Wednesday,  and  even  up  to  Fri- 
day, very  ill.  There  was  a  time  this  could  scarcely  have 
happened  without  your  coming  to  ask  after  her." 

"Is  it  my  fault,  Alice?  First  of  all,  I  never  knew  it. 
You  know  well  I  go  nowhere.  I  do  not  mix  with  those 
who  frequent  grand  houses.     But  tell  me  of  Bella." 

"She  was  never  alarmingly  ill;  but  the  doctor  called  it 
scarlatina,  and  frightened  every  one  away ;  and  poor  ]Mrs. 
Maxwell  has  not  yet  recovered  the  shock  of  seeing  her 
guests  depart  and  her  house  deserted,  for  Bella  and  mj^self 
are  all  that  remain." 

"  May  I  present  my  friend  to  you?  —  he  would  take  it  as 
such  a  favor,"  asked  Tony,  timidly. 


TWO   FRIENDS.  297 

*'  I  think  not,"  said  she,  with  an  air  of  indolence. 

*' Do  let  me;  he  saw  your  picture  —  that  picture  of  you 
and  Bella  at  the  Exhibition  —  and  he  is  wild  to  see  yourself. 
Don't  refuse  me,  Alice." 

"If  you  think  this  a  favor,  I  wonder  you  have  courage  to 
ask  it.  Come,  you  need  not  look  cross.  Master  Tony,  par- 
ticularly as  all  the  fault  is  on  your  own  side.  Come  over  to 
Tiluey  the  day  after  to-morrow  with  your  friend." 

*'  But  I  don't  know  Mrs.  Maxwell." 

*'  That  does  not  signify  in  the  least;  do  what  I  bid  you. 
I  am  as  much  mistress  there  as  she  is  while  I  stay.  Come 
early.  I  shall  be  quite  alone,  for  Mark  goes  to-morrow  to 
town,  and  Bella  will  scarcely  be  well  enough  to  see  you." 

"And  you'll  not  let  me  introduce  him  now?" 

"  No ;  I  shall  look  more  like  my  picture  in  a  house  dress ; 
and  perhaps  —  though  I  '11  not  promise  —  be  in  a  better 
temper  too.     Good-bye." 

"Won't  you  shake  hands  with  me,  Alice?" 

"  No  ;  it 's  too  cold  to  take  my  hand  out  of  my  muff.  Re- 
member, now,  Saturday  morning,  without  fail." 

"Alice!"  said  he,  with  a  look  at  once  devoted  and 
reproachful. 

"Tony!  "  said  she,  imitating  his  tone  of  voice  to  perfec- 
tion, "  there's  your  friend  getting  impatient.     Good-bye." 

As  the  spanking  team  whirled  past,  Skeffy  had  but  a 
second  or  two  to  catch  a  glance  at  the  veiled  and  muffied 
figure  that  reclined  so  voluptuously  in  the  corner  of  the 
carriage ;  but  he  was  ready  to  declare  that  she  had  the  most 
beautiful  eyes  in  the  world,  and  "  knew  what  to  do  with 
them  besides."  "You  're  in  love  with  her,  Tony,"  cried  he, 
fixing  a  steadfast  stare  on  the  pale  and  agitated  features  at 
his  side.  "  I  see  it,  old  fellow !  I  know  every  shade  and  tint 
of  that  blessed  thing  they  miscall  the  tender  passion.  ^lake 
me  no  confessions;  I  don't  want  them.  Your  heart  is  at 
her  feet,  and  she  treats  it  like  a  football." 

Tony's  cheeks  grew  purple. 

"There  's  no  shame  in  that,  my  boy.  Women  do  that 
with  better  men  than  either  of  us;  ay,  and  will  continue  to 
do  it  centuries  after  you  and  T  shall  be  canonized  as  saints. 
It's  that  same  contempt  of  us  that  makes  them  worth  the 


298  TONY  BUTLER. 

winning;  but,  I  say,  why  is  the  fellow  drawing  up  here? 
—  Is  he  going  to  bait  his  beast? " 

''Xo,"  muttered  Ton}-,  with  a  certain  confusion;  "but  we 
must  get  down  and  walk  here.  Our  road  lies  by  that  path 
yonder:  there  's  no  carriage-way  up  to  our  '  chateau; '  "  and 
he  gave  a  peculiar  accent  to  the  last  word. 

"All  right,"  said  Skeffy,  gayly.  "I'm  good  for  ten  miles 
of  a  walk." 

"I  '11  not  test  your  powers  so  far;  less  than  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  will  bring  us  home.  Take  down  the  luggage,  and 
I'll  send  up  for  it,"  said  he  to  the  driver. 

"What  honest  poor  devils  you  must  be  down  here!  "  said 
Skeffy,  as  he  saw  the  carman  deposit  the  trunks  on  the  road 
and  drive  off.  "I  'd  not  like  to  try  this  experiment  in  Char- 
ing Cross." 

"You  see  there  is  some  good  in  poverty,  after  all,"  said 
Tony,  laughing. 

"Egad,  I've  tried  it  for  some  years  without  discovering 
it,"  said  Skeffy,  gravely.  "That,"  continued  he,  after  a 
brief  pause,  "it  should  make  men  careless,  thoughtless, 
reckless  if  you  like,  I  can  conceive;  but  why  it  should  make 
them  honest,  is  clean  bej'ond  me.  What  an  appetite  this 
sharp  air  is  giving  me.  Master  Tony!  I'll  astonish  that 
sirloin  or  that  saddle  of  yours,  whichever  it  be." 

"More  likely  neither,  Skeffy.  You  're  lucky  if  it  be  a 
rasher  and  eggs." 

"Oh,  that  it  may  be,"  cried  the  other,  "and  draught  beer! 
Have  you  got  draught  beer?  " 

"I  don't  think  we  have  any  other.  There  's  our  crib,  — 
that  little  cabin  under  the  rocks  yonder." 

"How  pretty  it  is,  — the  snuggest  spot  I  ever  saw!  " 

"Y^ou're  a  good  fellow  to  say  so,"  cried  Tony;  and  his 
eyes  swam  in  tears  as  he  turned  away. 

What  a  change  has  come  over  Tony  Butler  within  the  last 
twenty-four  hours!  All  his  fears  and  terrors  as  to  what 
Skeffy  would  think  of  their  humble  cottage  and  simple  mode 
of  life  have  given  way,  and  there  he  goes  about  from  place 
to  place,  showing  to  his  friend  how  comfortable  everj^thing 
is,    and    how  snug.     "There  are  grander  dining-rooms,  no 


TWO  FRIENDS.  299 

doubt,  but  did  you  ever  see  a  warmer  or  a  '  cosier  '  ?  And 
as  to  the  drawing-room,  —  match  the  view  from  the  window 
in  all  Europe ;  between  that  great  bluff  of  Fairhead  and  the 
huge  precipice  yonder  of  the  Causeway  there  is  a  sweep 
of  coast  unrivalled  anywhere.  Those  great  rocks  are  the 
Skerries ;  and  there,  where  you  see  that  one  stone-pine  tree, 
—  there,  under  that  cliff,  is  the  cove  where  I  keep  my  boat; 
not  much  of  a  boat,"  added  he,  in  a  weaker  voice,  "because 
I  used  always  to  have  the  cutter, — Sir  Arthur's  yacht. 
Round  that  point  there  is  such  a  spot  to  bathe  in;  twenty 
feet  water  at  the  very  edge,  and  a  white  gravel  bottom,  with- 
out a  weed.  Passing  up  that  little  pathway,  you  gain  the 
ledge  yonder;  and  there  —  do  you  mark  the  two  stones,  like 
gate-piers?  —  there  you  enter  Sir  Arthur  Lyle's  demesne. 
You  can't  see  the  shrubberies,  for  the  ground  dips,  and  the 
trees  will  only  grow  in  the  valleys  here! "  And  there  was  a 
despondent  tenderness  in  the  last  words  that  seemed  to  say, 
"If  it  were  not  for  that,  this  would  be  paradise!  " 

Nor  was  it  mere  politeness,  and  the  spirit  of  good  breed- 
ing, that  made  Skeffy  a  genial  listener  to  these  praises. 
What  between  the  sense  of  a  holiday,  the  delight  of  what 
cockneys  call  an  "outing,"  the  fine  fresh  breezy  air  of  the 
place,  the  breadth  and  space,  —  great  elements  of  expan- 
siveness, —  Skeffy  felt  a  degree  of  enjo^^ment  that  amounted 
to  ecstasy. 

"I  don't  wonder  that  you  like  it  all,  Tony,"  said  he. 
"You  '11  never,  in  all  your  wanderings,  see  anything  finer." 

"I  often  say  as  much  to  myself,"  replied  Tony.  "As  I 
sit  here  of  an  evening,  with  my  cigar,  I  often  say,  '  Why 
should  I  go  over  the  world  in  search  of  fortune,  when  I  have 
all  that  one  wants  here,  —  here  at  my  very  hand  ?  '  Don't  you 
think  a  fellow  might  be  content  with  it?" 

"Content!  I  could  be  as  happy  as  a  king  here!  "  and  for 
a  moment  or  two  Skeffy  really  revelled  in  delighted  thoughts 
of  a  region  where  the  tinkle  of  a  minister's  hand-bell  had 
never  been  heard,  where  no  "service  messengers "  ever 
came,  where  no  dunning  tailors  invaded ;  a  paradise  that 
knew  not  the  post  nor  dreamed  of  the  telegraph. 

"And  as  to  money,"  continued  Tony,  "one  does  not  want 
to  be  rich  in  such  a  place.     I  'm  as  well  off  here  with,  we  '11 


300  TONY  BUTLER. 

say,  two  hundred  a  year  —  we  haven't  got  so  much,  but  I  'II 
say  that  —  as  I  should  be  in  London  with  a  thousand.'* 

"Better!  decidedly  better!  "  said  Skeffy,  puffing  his  cigar, 
and  thinking  over  that  snowstorm  of  Christmas  bills  which 
awaited  him  on  his  return. 

"If  it  were  not  for  one  thing,  Skeffy,  I  'd  never  leave  it," 
said  he,  with  a  deep  sigh,  and  a  look  that  said  as  plainly 
as  ever  words  spoke,  "Let  me  open  my  heart  to  you." 

"I  know  it  all,  old  fellow,  just  as  if  you  had  confessed 
it  to  me.     I  know  the  whole  stor}'." 

"What  do  you  know,  or  what  do  you  suspect  you  know?  " 
said  Tony,  growing  red. 

"I  say,"  said  Skeffy,  with  that  tone  of  superiority  that 
he  liked  to  assume,  — "I  say  that  I  read  you  like  a  book." 

"Read  aloud,  then,  and  I  '11  say  if  you  're  right." 

"It's  wrong  with  you  here,  Butler,"  said  Skeffy,  laying 
his  hand  on  the  other's  heart;  and  a  deep  sigh  was  all  the 
answer.  "Give  me  another  weed,"  said  Skeffy,  and  for 
some  seconds  he  employed  himself  in  lighting  it.  "There  's 
not  a  man  in  England,"  said  he,  slowly,  and  with  the  delib- 
erateness  of  a  judge  in  giving  sentence,  — "not  a  man  in 
England  knows  more  of  these  sort  of  things  than  I  do. 
You,  I  'm  certain,  take  me  for  a  man  of  pleasure  and  the 
world,  —  a  gay,  butterfl}'  sort  of  creature,  flitting  at  will 
from  flower  to  flower;  or  j^ou  believe  me  —  and  in  that  with 
more  reason  —  a  fellow  full  of  ambition,  and  determined  to 
play  a  hi^-h  stake  in  life;  but  3'et,  Tony  Butler,  within  all 
these  there  is  another  nature,  like  the  holy  of  holies  in  the 
sanctuary.  Ay,  my  dear  friend,  there  is  the  —  what  the 
poet  calls  the  '  crimson  heart  within  the  rose.'  Isn't 
that  it?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Tony,  bluntly. 

And  now  Skeffy  smoked  on  for  some  minutes  without  a 
word.  At  length  he  said,  in  a  solemn  tone,  "It  has  not  been 
for  nothing,  Butler,  that  I  acquired  the  gift  I  speak  of. 
If  I  see  into  the  hearts  of  men  like  you,  I  have  paid  the 
price  of  it." 

"I'm  not  so  certain  that  you  can  do  it,"  said  Tony,  half 
doubting  his  friend's  skill,  and  half  eager  to  provoke  an 
exercise  of  it. 


TWO  FRIENDS.  801 

"I  '11  show  whether  I  can  or  not.  Of  course,  if  you  like 
to  disclaim  or  deny  —  " 

"I  '11  disclaim  nothing  that  I  know  to  be  true." 

"And  I  am  to  speak  freely?  " 

**As  freely  as  you  are  able." 

"Here  it  is,  then,  in  five  words:  You  are  in  love,  Tony, 
—  in  love  with  that  beautiful  widow." 

Tony  held  his  head  down  between  his  hands,  and  was 
silent. 

"You  feel  that  the  case  is  hopeless,  — that  is  to  say,  that 
you  know,  besides  being  of  rank  and  wealth,  she  is  one  to 
make  a  great  match,  and  that  her  family  would  never  con- 
sent to  hear  of  your  pretensions ;  and  yet  all  this  while  you 
have  a  sort  of  lurking  suspicion  that  she  cares  for  you?  " 

"No,  no!"  muttered  Tony,  between  his  hands. 

"Well,  that  she  did  once,  and  that  not  very  long  ago." 

"Not  even  that,"  said  Tony,  drearily. 

"I  know  better, — you  do  think  so.  And  I'll  tell  you 
more;  what  makes  you  so  keenly  alive  to  her  change  —  per- 
fidy, you  would  like  to  call  it  —  is  this,  that  you  have  gone 
through  that  state  of  the  disease  yourself." 

"I  don't  understand  you." 

"Well,  you  shall.  The  lovely  Alice  —  isn't  that  the 
name?" 

Tony  nodded. 

"The  lovely  Alice  got  your  own  heart  only-  at  second 
hand.  You  used  to  be  in  love  with  the  little  girl  that  was 
governess  at  Richmond." 

"Not  a  word  of  it  true,  — nothing  of  the  kind,"  broke  out 
Tony,  fiercely.  "Dolly  and  I  were  brother  and  sister,  —  we 
always  said  we  were." 

"What  does  that  signify?  I  tried  the  brother-and-sister 
dodge,  and  I  know  what  it  cost  me  when  she  married  Mac- 
cleston;"  and  Skeffy  here  threw  his  cigar  into  the  sea,  as 
though  an  emblem  of  his  shipwrecked  destiny.  "Mind  me 
well,  Butler,"  said  he,  at  last;  "I  did  not  say  that  you  ever 
told  your  heart  you  loved  her;  but  she  knew  it,  take  my 
word  for  it.  She  knew,  and  in  the  knowing  it  was  the 
attraction  that  drew  you  on." 

"But  I  was  not  drawn  on." 


302  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Don't  tell  me,  sir.  Answer  me  just  this:  Did  any  man 
ever  know  the  hour,  or  even  the  day,  that  he  caught  a 
fever?  Could  he  go  back  in  memory,  and  say,  it  was  on 
Tuesday  last,  at  a  quarter  to  three,  that  my  pulse  rose,  my 
respiration  grew  shorter,  and  my  temples  began  to  throb? 
So  it  is  with  love,  the  most  malignant  of  all  fevers.  All 
this  time  that  you  and  What's-her-name  were  playing 
brother  and  sister  so  innocently,  your  hearts  were  learning 
to  feel  in  unison, — just  as  two  pendulums  in  the  same 
room  acquire  the  same  beat  and  swing  together.  You  've 
heard  that  ?  " 

"I  may;  but  you  are  all  wrong  about  Dolly." 

"What  would  she  say  to  it?  " 

"Just  what  I  do." 

"Well,  we  cannot  ask  her,  for  she  's  not  here." 

"She  is  here,  —  not  two  miles  from  where  we  are  stand- 
ing; not  that  it  signifies  much,  for,  of  course,  neither  of  us 
would  do  that.'' 

"Not  plump  out,  certainly,  in  so  many  words." 

"Not  in  any  way,  Skeffy.  It  is  because  I  look  upon 
Dolly  as  my  own  dear  sister,  I  would  not  suffer  a  word  to 
be  said  that  could  offend  her." 

"Offend  her!  -Oh  dear,  how  young  you  are  in  these 
things !  " 

"What  is  it,  Jenny?"  cried  Tony  to  the  servant-girl,  who 
was  shouting  not  very  intelligibly,  from  a  little  knoll  at  a 
distance.  "Oh,  she's  saying  that  supper  is  ready,  and  the 
kippered  salmon  getting  cold,  as  if  any  one  cared!  " 

''Don't  they  care!"  cried  Skeffy.  "Well,  then,  they 
haven't  been  inhaling  this  sea-breeze  for  an  hour,  as  I  have. 
Heaven  grant  that  love  has  carried  off  your  appetite,  Tony, 
for  I  feel  as  if  I  coi*ld  eat  for  six." 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

ON    THE    ROCKS. 

It  was  a  rare  thing  for  Tony  Butler  to  lie  awake  at  night, 
and  yet  he  did  so  for  full  an  hour  or  more  after  that  conver- 
sation with  Skeffy.  It  was  such  a  strange  blunder  for  one 
of  Skeffy's  shrewdness  to  have  made,  — so  inexplicable. 

To  imagine  that  he,  Tony,  had  ever  been  in  love  with 
Dolly!  Dolly,  his  playfellow  since  the  time  when  the  "twa 
had  paidled  i'  the  burn;"  Dolly,  to  whom  he  went  with 
every  little  care  that  crossed  him,  never  shrinking  for  an 
instant  from  those  avowals  of  doubt  or  difficulty  that  no  one 
makes  to  his  sweetheart.  So,  at  least,  thought  Tony.  Atid 
the  same  Dolly  to  whom  he  had  revealed  once,  in  deepest 
secrecy,  that  he  was  in  love  with  Alice !  To  be  sure,  it  was 
a  boyish  confession,  made  years  ago;  and  since  that  Alice 
had  grown  up  to  be  a  woman,  and  was  married,  so  that  the 
story  of  the  love  was  like  a  fairy  tale. 

"In  love  with  Dolly!  "  muttered  he.  "If  he  had  but  ever 
seen  us  together,  he  would  have  known  that  could  not  be." 
Poor  Tony!  he  knew  of  love  in  its  moods  of  worship  and 
devotion,  and  in  its  aspect  of  a  life-giving  impulse,  —  a 
soul-filling,  engrossing  sentiment,  —  inspiring  timidity  when 
near,  and  the  desire  for  boldness  when  away.  With  such 
alternating  influence  Dolly  had  never  racked  his  heart.  He 
sought  her  with  a  quiet  conscience,  untroubled  by  a  fear. 

"How  could  Skeffy  make  such  a  mistake!  That  it  is  a 
mistake,  who  would  recognize  more  quickly  than  Dolly  her- 
self; and  with  what  humorous  drollery  —  a  drollery  all  her 
own  —  would  she  not  treat  it!  A  rare  punishment  for  your 
blunder.  Master  Skeffy,  would  it  be  to  tell  Dolly  of  it  all 
in  your  presence ;  "  and  at  last,  wearied  out  with  thinking, 
he  fell  asleep. 


304  TONY  BUTLER. 

The  day  broke  with  one  of  those  bright  breezy  mornings 
which,  though  "trying"  to  the  nerves  of  the  weak  and 
delicate,  are  glorious  stimulants  to  the  strong.  The  sea 
plashed  merrily  over  the  rocks,  and  the  white  streaky  clouds 
flew  over  the  land  with  a  speed  that  said  it  blew  hard  at  sea. 
"Glorious  day  for  a  sail,  Skeffy;  we  can  beat  out,  and  come 
back  with  a  stern- wind  whenever  we  like." 

"I'll  anticipate  the  wish  by  staying  on  shore,  Tony." 

"I  can't  offer  you  a  mount,  Skeffy,  for  I  am  not  the  owner 
of  even  a  donkey.'* 

"Who  wants  one?  Who  wants  anything  better  than  to  go 
down  where  we  were  yesterday  evening,  under  that  big  black 
rock,  with  the  sea  before  us,  and  the  whole  wide  world 
behind  us,  and  talk?  When  a  fellow  lives  as  I  do,  cooped 
up  within  four  walls,  the  range  of  his  view  some  tiers  of 
pigeon-holes,  mere  freedom  and  a  sea-breeze  are  the  grand- 
est luxuries  in  creation;"  and  off  they  set,  armed  with  an 
ample  supply  of  tobacco,  the  life-buoy  of  those  strugglers  in 
the  sea  of  thought  who  only  ask  to  float,  but  not  to  reach  the 
shore. 

How  delightfully  did  the  hours  pass  over!  At  least,  so 
Tony  felt,  for  what  a  wonderful  fellow  was  Skeffy  I  What 
had  he  not  seen  or  heard  or  read?  AVhat  theme  was  new, 
what  subject  unknown  to  him?  But,  above  all,  what  a  mar- 
vellous insight  had  he  into  the  world,  —  the  actual  world  of 
men  and  women!  Great  people  were  not  to  Jiis  eyes  mighty 
gods  and  goddesses,  seated  loftily  on  a  West-End  Olympus, 
but  fallible  mortals,  with  chagrins  about  the  court  and  griev- 
ances about  invitations  to  Windsor.  Ministers,  too,  whose 
nods  shook  empires,  were  humanities,  very  irritable  under 
the  gout,  and  much  given  to  colchicum.  Skeffy  "knew  the 
whole  thing,"  —  he  was  not  one  of  the  mere  audience.  He 
lived  in  the  green-room  or  in  the  "flats."  He  knew  all  the 
secrets  of  state,  from  the  splendid  armaments  that  existed  on 
paper,  to  the  mock  thunders  that  were  manufactured  and 
patented  by  F.  O. 

These  things  Skeffy  told  like  confidences,  —  secrets  he 
would  not  have  breathed  to  any  one  he  held  less  near  his 
heart  than  Tony.  But  somehow  commonplaces  told  by  the 
lips  of    authority  will  assume  an  immense  authority,  and 


ON  THE  ROCKS.  305 

carry  with  them  a  stupendous  weight;  and  Tony  listened  to 
the  precious  words  of  wisdom  as  he  might  have  listened  to 
the  voice  of  Solomon. 

But  even  more  interesting  still  did  he  become  as  he 
sketched  forth,  very  vaguely  indeed,  —  a  sort  of  Turner  in 
his  later  style  of  cloud  and  vapor,  —  his  own  great  future. 
Not  very  clear  and  distinct  the  steps  by  which  he  was  fated 
to  rise,  but  palpable  enough  the  great  elevation  he  was 
ultimately  to  occupy. 

*' Don't  imagine,  old  fellow,"  said  he,  laying  his  hand  on 
Tony's  shoulders,  ''that  I  am  going  to  forget  you  when  that 
time  comes.  I  'm  not  going  to  leave  you  a  Queen's 
messenger." 

'•  What  could  you  make  of  me?  "  said  Tony,  despondently. 

"Fifty  things,"  said  the  other,  with  a  confidence  that 
seemed  to  say,  ''I,  Skeffy,  am  equal  to  more  than  this;" 
"fifty  things.  You,  of  course,  cannot  be  expected  to  know  it, 
but  I  can  tell  you,  it 's  far  harder  to  get  a  small  place  than  a 
big  one, —  harder  to  be  a  corporal  than  a  lieutenant-general." 

"How  do  you  explain  that?"  asked  Tony,  with  an  eager 
curiosity. 

"You  can't  understand  it  without  knowing  life.  I  cannot 
convey  to  j^ou  how  to  win  a  trick  where  3'ou  don't  know  the 
game."  And  Skeffy  showed,  by  the  impatient  way  he  tried 
to  light  a  fresh  cigar,  that  he  was  not  fully  satisfied  with 
the  force  or  clearness  of  his  own  explanation;  and  he  went 
on:  "You  see,  old  fellow,  when  you  have  climbed  up  some 
rungs  of  the  ladder  with  a  certain  amount  of  assurance, 
many  will  think  you  are  determined  to  get  to  the  top." 

"Well,  but  if  a  man's  ladder  has  only  one  rung,  as  I 
imagine  is  the  case  with  mine!  "  broke  in  Ton3\ 

Skeffy  looked  at  his  companion  for  a  moment,  half  sur- 
prised that  he  should  have  carried  out  the  figure,  and  then 
laughed  heartily,  as  he  said,  '  Splice  it  to  mine,  my  boy;  it 
will  bear  us  both." 

It  was  no  use  that  Tony  shook  his  head  and  looked 
despondingly;  there  was  a  hopeful  warmth  about  Skeffy  not 
to  be  extinguished  by  any  discouragement.  In  fact,  if  a 
shade  of  dissatisfaction  seemed  ever  to  cloud  the  brightness 
of   his  visions,  it  was  the   fear  lest,  even  in  his  success, 

20 


306  TONY  BUTLER. 

some  other  career  might  be  neglected  wherein  the  rewards 
were  greater  and  the  prizes  more  splendid.  He  knew,  and 
he  did  not  scruple  to  declare  that  he  knew,  if  he  had  been  a 
soldier  he  'd  have  risen  to  the  highest  command.  If  he  'd 
have  gone  to  the  bar,  he  'd  have  ended  on  the  woolsack. 
Had  he  "taken  that  Indian  appointment,"  he  'd  have  been 
high  up  by  this  time  on  the  Council,  with  his  eye  on  Govern- 
ment House  for  a  finish.  "That 's  what  depresses  me  about 
diplomacy,  Tony.  The  higher  you  go,  the  less  sure  you  are. 
They  —  I  mean  your  own  party  —  give  you  Paris  or  St. 
Petersburg,  we  '11  say;  and  if  they  go  out,  so  must  you." 

"Why  must  3^ou?"  asked  Tony. 

"For  the  reason  that  the  well-bred  dog  went  downstairs 
when  he  saw  certain  preparations  that  betokened  kicking 
him  down. 

"After  all,  I  think  a  new  colony  and  the  gold-fields  the 
real  thing,  —  the  glorious  independence  of  it;  you  live  how 
you  like,  and  with  whom  you  like.  No  Mrs.  Grundy  to  say, 
'  Do  you  know  who  dined  with  Skeffington  Darner  yester- 
day? '  '  Did  3'ou  remark  the  young  woman  who  sat  beside 
him  in  his  carriage?'  and  such-like." 

"But  you  cannot  be  always  sure  of  your  nuggets,"  mut- 
tered Tony.  "I  've  seen  fellows  come  back  poorer  than  they 
went." 

"Of  course  you  have;  it 's  not  every  horse  wins  the  Derby, 
old  boy.  And  I'll  tell  you  another  thing,  too;  the  feeling, 
the  instinct,  the  inner  consciousness  that  you  carry  success 
in  your  nature,  is  a  rarer  and  a  higher  gift  than  the  very 
power  to  succeed.  You  meet  with  clever  fellows  every  day 
in  the  week  who  have  no  gauge  of  their  own  cleverness.  To 
give  an  illustration;  you  write  a  book,  we  '11  say." 

"No,  I  don't,"  blurted  out  Tony. 

"Well,  but  you  might;  it  is  at  least  possible." 

"It  is  not." 

"Well,  let  us  take  something  else.  You  are  about  to  try 
something  that  has  a  great  reward  attached  to  it,  if  success- 
ful ;  you  want,  we  '11  suppose,  to  marry  a  woman  of  high  rank 
and  large  fortune,  very  beautiful, —  in  fact,  one  to  whom, 
according  to  every-day  notions,  you  have  not  the  slightest 
pretensions.     Is  n't  that  a  strong  case,  eh?'* 


ON  THE  ROCKS.  307 

"Worse  than  the  book.  Perhaps  I  'd  better  try  author- 
ship," said  Tony,  growing  very  red;  "but  make  the  case 
your  own,  and  I  '11  listen  just  as  attentively." 

"Well,  here  goes;  I  have  only  to  draw  on  memory,"  said 
he,  with  a  sigh;  "I  suppose  you  don't  remember  seeing  in 
the  papers,  about  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  that  the  Prince  of 
Cobourg  Cohari  —  not  one  of  our  Cobourgs,  but  an  Austrian 
branch  —  came  over  to  visit  the  Queen.  He  brought  his 
daughter  Olga  with  him;  she  was  called  Olga  after  the 
Empress  of  Russia's  sister.  And  such  a  girl!  She  was 
nearly  as  tall  as  you,  Tony, — I  '11  swear  she  was, —  with  enor- 
mous blue  eyes,  and  masses  of  fair  hair  that  she  wore  in 
some  Russian  fashion  that  seemed  as  if  it  had  fallen  loose 
over  her  neck  and  shoulders.  And  were  n't  they  shoulders! 
I  do  like  a  large  woman !  a  regular  Cleopatra,  —  indolent, 
voluptuous,  dreamy.  I  like  the  majestic  languor  of  their 
walk;  and  there  is  a  massive  grandeur  in  their  slightest 
gesture  that  is  very  imposing." 

"Go  on,"  muttered  Tony,  as  the  other  seemed  to  pause 
for  a  sentiment  of  concurrence. 

"I  was  in  the  Household  in  those  days,  and  I  was  sent 
down  with  old  DoUington  to  Dover  to  meet  them;  but  some- 
how they  arrived  before  we  got  down,  and  were  comfortably 
installed  at  the  '  Lord  Warden '  when  we  arrived.  It  did 
not  matter  much ;  for  old  Cohari  was  seized  with  an  attack 
of  gout,  and  could  not  stir;  and  there  I  was,  running  back 
and  forward  to  the  telegraph  office  all  da}^  reporting  how  he 
was,  and  whether  he  would  or  would  not  have  Sir  James 
This  or  Sir  John  That  dow^n  to  see  him!  DoUington  and  he 
were  old  friends,  fortunately,  and  had  a  deal  to  say  to  each 
other,  so  that  I  was  constantly  with  Olga.  At  first  she  was 
supremely  haughty  and  distant,  as  j^ou  may  imagine;  a  regu- 
lar Austrian  Serene  Highness  grafted  on  a  beauty,  — fancy 
that!  but  it  never  deterred  me ;  and  I  contrived  that  she 
should  see  mine  was  the  homage  of  a  heart  she  had  capti- 
vated, not  of  a  courtier  that  was  bound  to  obey  her.  She 
saw  it,  sir,  —  saw  it  at  once ;  saw  it  with  that  instinct  that 
whispers  to  the  female  heart,  '  He  loves  me,'  ere  the  man  has 
ever  said  it  to  himself.  She  not  only  saw,  but  she  did  not 
discourage,  my  passion.    Twenty  little  incidents  of  our  daily 


308  TONY  BUTLER. 

life  showed  this,  as  we  rambled  across  the  downs  together, 
or  strolled  along  the  shore  to  watch  the  setting  sun  and  the 
arrival  of  the  mail-boat  from  Calais. 

"At  last  the  Prince  recovered  sufficiently  to  continue  his 
journey,  and  I  went  down  to  order  a  special  train  to  take 
us  up  to  town  the  following  morning.  By  some  stupid 
arrangement,  however,  of  the  directors,  an  earlier  announce- 
ment should  have  been  given,  and  all  they  could  do  was  to 
let  us  have  one  of  the  royal  carriages  attached  to  the  express. 
I  was  vexed  at  this,  and  so  was  Dolliugton,  but  the  Prince 
did  not  care,  in  the  least;  and  when  I  went  to  speak  of  it  to 
Olga,  she  hung  down  her  head  for  an  instant,  and  then,  in  a 
voice  and  with  an  accent  I  shall  never  forget,  she  said,  '  Ah, 
Monsieur  Damer,  it  would  appear  to  be  your  destiny  to  be 
always  too  late ! '  She  left  me  as  she  spoke,  and  we  never 
met  after ;  for  on  that  same  evening  I  learned  from  Dolliug- 
ton she  was  betrothed  to  the  Duke  Max  of  Hohenhammels- 
braten,  and  to  be  married  in  a  month.  That  was  the  mean- 
ing of  her  emotion,  —  that  was  the  source  of  a  sorrow  that 
all  but  overcame  her ;  for  she  loved  me,  Tony,  —  she  loved 
me!  not  with  that  headlong  devotion  that  belongs  to  the 
warmer  races,  but  with  a  Teutonic  love ;  and  when  she  said, 
'I  was  too  late,'  it  was  the  declaration  of  a  heart  whose 
valves  worked  under  a  moderate  pressure,  and  never  risked 
an  explosion." 

''But  how  do  you  know  that  she  was  not  alluding  to  the 
train,  and  to  your  being  late  to  receive  them  on  the  land- 
ing ?  "  asked  Tony. 

"Ain't  you  prosaic,  Tony,  —  ain't  you  six-and-eight- 
pence!  with  your  dull  and  commonplace  interpretation!  I 
tell  you,  sir,  that  she  meant,  '  1  love  you,  but  it  is  in  vain, 
—  I  love  you,  but  another  is  before  you,  —  I  love  you,  but 
you  come  too  late! '  " 

"And  what  did  you  do?"  asked  Tony,  anxious  to  relieve 
himself  from  a  position  of  some  awkwardness. 

"1  acted  with  dignity,  sir.  I  resigned  in  the  Household, 
and  got  appointed  to  the  Colonial." 

"And  what  does  it  all  prove,  except  it  be  something 
against  your  own  theory,  that  a  man  should  think  there  is 
nothing  too  high  for  his  reach?" 


ON  THE   ROCKS.  809 

"Verily,  Tony,  I  have  much  to  teach  you,"  said  Skeffy, 
gravely,  but  good-naturedly.  "This  little  incident  shows 
by  what  slight  casualties  our  fortunes  are  swa^^ed:  had  it 
not  been  for  Max  of  Hammelsbraten,  where  might  not  I  have 
been  to-da}^?  It  is  by  the  flaw  in  the  metal  the  strength  of 
the  gun  is  measured,  —  so  it  is  by  a  man's  failures  in  life 
you  can  estimate  his  value.  Anotlier  would  not  have  dared 
to  raise  his  eyes  so  high !  " 

"That  I  can  well  believe,"  said  Tony,  dryly. 

"You,  for  instance,  would  no  more  have  permitted  your- 
self to  fall  in  love  with  her,  than  you  'd  have  thought  of 
tossing  for  half-crowns  with  the  Prince  her  father." 

"Pretty  much  the  same,"  muttered  Tony. 

"That 's  it,  —  that  is  exactly  what  establishes  the  differ- 
ence between  men  in  life.  It  is  by  the  elevation  given  to 
the  cannon  that  the  ball  is  thrown  so  far.  It  is  b}'  the  high 
purpose  of  a  man  that  you  measure  his  genius." 

"All  the  genius  in  the  world  won't  make  you  able  to  take 
a  horse  over  seven  feet  of  a  stone  wall,"  said  Tony;  "and 
whatever  is  impossible  has  no  interest  for  me." 

"You  never  can  say  what  is  impossible,"  broke  in  Skeffy. 
"I  '11  tell  you  experiences  of  mine,  and  you  '11  exclaim  at 
every  step,  '  How  could  that  be  ?  '  "  Skeffy  had  now  thor- 
oughly warmed  to  his  theme.  —  the  theme  he  loved  best  in 
the  world,  —  himself;  for  he  was  one  of  those  who  "take 
out "  all  their  egotism  in  talk.  Let  him  only  speak  of  him- 
self, and  he  was  ready  to  act  heartily  and  energetically  in 
the  cause  of  his  friends.  All  that  he  possessed  was  at  their 
service,  —  his  time,  his  talents,  his  ingenuity,  his  influence, 
and  his  purse.  He  could  give  them  everything  but  one; 
he  could  not  make  them  heroes  in  his  stories.  No,  his 
romance  was  his  own  realm,  and  he  could  share  it  with 
none. 

Listen  to  him,  and  there  never  was  a  man  so  traded  on, 
—  so  robbed  and  pilfered  from.  A  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer had  caught  up  that  notion  of  his  about  the  tax  on 
domestic  cats.  It  was  on  the  railroad  he  had  dropped  that 
hint  about  a  supply  of  cordials  in  all  fire-escapes.  That 
clever  suggestion  of  a  web  livery  that  would  fit  footmen  of 
all  sizes  was  his ;  he  remembered  the  day  he  made  it,  and 


310  TONY  BUTLER. 

the  fellow  that  stole  it,  too,  on  the  chain-pier  at  Brighton. 
What  leaders  in  the  "Times,"  what  smart  things  in  the 
'"Saturday,"  what  sketches  in  "Punch"  were  constructed 
out  of  liis  dinner-talk! 

Poor  Tony  listened  to  all  these  with  astonishment,  and 
even  confusion,  for  one-half,  at  least,  of  the  topics  were 
totally  strange  and  new  to  him.  *'Tell  me,"  said  he  at  last, 
with  a  bold  effort  to  come  back  to  a  land  of  solid  reality, 
"what  of  that  poor  fellow  whose  bundle  1  carried  away  witli 
me?  Your  letter  said  sometliing  mysterious  about  him, 
which  I  could  make  nothing  of." 

"Ah,  yes,  — a  dangerous  dog,  — a  friend  of  Mazzini's, 
and  a  member  of  I  can't  say  how  many  secret  societies. 
The  Inspector,  hearing  that  I  had  asked  after  him  at  the 
hotel,  came  up  to  F.  O.  t'  otlier  morning  to  learn  what  I 
knew  of  him,  and  each  of  us  tried  for  full  half  an  hour  to 
puni})  the  other." 

"I  '11  not  believe  one  word  against  him,"  said  Tony,  stur- 
dily; "an  honester,  franker  face  I  never  looked  at." 

"No  doubt!  Who  would  wish  to  see  a  better-looking 
fellow  than  Orsini?" 

"And  what  has  become  of  him,  — of  Quin,  T  mean?  " 

"Got  away,  clean  away,  and  no  one  knows  how  or  where. 
I'll  tell  you.,  Tony,"  said  he,  "what  I  would  not  tell  another, 
—  that  they  stole  that  idea  of  the  explosive  bombs  from 
me." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  —  " 

"Of  course  not,  old  fellow.  I  'm  not  a  man  to  counsel 
assassination;  but  in  the  loose  way  I  talk,  throwing  out 
notions  for  tliis  and  hints  for  that,  they  caught  up  this  idea 
just  as  Blakeney  did  that  phxn  of  mine  for  rifling  large 
guns." 

Tony  fixed  his  eyes  on  him  for  a  moment  or  two  in  silence, 
and  then  said  gravely,  "I  think  it  must  be  near  dinner- 
time; let  us  saunter  towards  home." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


A   MORNING    CALL    AT    TILNEY. 


On  the  morning  after  this  conversation,  the  two  friends  set 
out  for  Tiluey ;  Sketify,  as  usual,  full  of  himself,  and  con- 
sequently in  high  spirits,  —  happy  in  the  present,  and  con- 
fident for  the  future.  Tony,  indeed,  was  delighted  with  his 
companion,  and  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  volatile  gayety  of 
one  who  seemed  to  derive  pleasure  from  everything.  With 
all  a  school-boy's  zest  for  a  holiday,  Skeffy  would  be  for- 
ever at  something.  Now  he  would  take  the  driver's  seat 
on  the  car  and  play  coachman  till,  with  one  wheel  in  the 
ditch  and  the  conveyance  nearly  over,  he  was  summarily 
deposed  by  Tony,  and  stoutly  rated  for  his  awkwardness. 

Then  it  was  his  pleasure  to  "chaff"  the  people  on  the 
road,  —  a  population  the  least  susceptible  of  drollery  in  all 
Europe !  —  a  grave,  saturnine  race,  who,  but  for  Tony's 
intervention,  would  have  more  than  once  resented  such  lib- 
erties very  practically.  As  they  saw  the  smoke  from  the 
chimney  of  a  little  cottage  under  the  hill,  and  heard  it  was 
there  Dolly  Stewart  lived,  it  was  all  Tony  could  do  to  pre- 
vent Skeffy  running  down  to  "  have  a  look  at  her,"  just 
as  it  required  actual  force  to  keep  him  from  jumping  off 
as  they  passed  a  village  school,  where  Skeffy  wanted  to 
examine  a  class  in  the  Catechism.  Then  he  would  eat  and 
drink  everywhere,  and,  with  a  mock  desire  for  information, 
ask  the  name  of  every  place  they  passed,  and  as  invaria- 
bly miscall  them,  to  the  no  small  amusement  of  the  carman, 
this  being  about  the  limit  of  his  appreciation  of  fun. 

"  What  a  fidgety  beggar  yon  are !  "  said  Tony,  half  angry 
and  half  laughing  at  the  incessant  caprices  of  his  vivacious 
companion.  "Do  yon  know  it's  now  going  on  to  eleven 
o'clock,  and  we  have  fourteen  miles  yet  before  us?" 


312  TONY  BUTLER. 

*'One  must  eat  occasionally,  my  dear  friend.  Even  in 
the  '  Arabian  Niglits '  the  heroine  takes  a  slight  refection 
of  dates  now  and  then." 

"But  this  is  our  third  'slight  refection'  this  morning, 
and  we  shall  probably  arrive  at  Tilney  for  luncheon." 

"  You  can  bear  long  fasts,  I  know.  I  have  often  heard 
of  the  '  starving  Irish ;  '  but  the  Anglo-Saxon  stomach  re- 
quires a  '  retainer,'  to  remind  it  of  the  great  cause  to  be 
tried  at  dinner-time.  A  mere  bite  of  bread  and  cheese,  and 
I'm  with  you." 

At  last  the  deep  woods  of  Tilney  came  in  sight ;  and 
evidence  of  a  well-cared-for  estate  —  trim  cottages  on  the 
roadside,  and  tasteful  little  gardens  —  showed  that  they 
were  approaching  the  residence  of  one  who  was  proud  of 
her  tenantr}'. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  asked  Tony,  struck  by 
a  momentary  silence  on  his  companion's  part. 

"  I  was  thinking,  Tony,"  said  he,  gravely,  —  "I  was  just 
thinking  whether  I  could  not  summon  up  a  sort  of  emo- 
tion at  seeing  the  woods  under  whose  shade  my  ancestors 
must  have  walked  for  heaven  knows  what  centuries." 

"  Your  ancestors !     Why,  they  never  lived  here." 

"Well,  if  they  did  n't,  they  ought.  It  seems  a  grand  old 
place,  and  I  ah-eady  feel  my  heart  warming  to  it.  By  the 
way,  where  's  Maitland  ?  " 

"Gone;  I  told  you  he  was  off  to  the  Continent.  What 
do  you  know  about  this  man,  —  anything?" 

"  Not  much.  When  I  was  at  school,  Tony,  whenever  in  our 
New  Testament  examination  they  asked  me  who  it  was  did 
this  or  said  that,  I  always  answered  John  the  Baptist,  and  in 
eight  times  out  of  ten  it  was  a  hit ;  and  so  in  secular  matters, 
whenever  I  was  puzzled  about  a  fellow's  parentage,  I  in- 
variably said  —  and  3'ou  '11  find  as  a  rule  it  is  invaluable  — 
he's  a  son  of  George  IV.,  or  his  father  was.  It  accounts 
for  everything,  —  good  looks,  plent}^  of  cash,  air,  swagger, 
mystery.  It  explains  how  a  fellow  knows  every  one,  and 
is  claimed  by  none." 

"And  is  this  Maitland's  origin?" 

"I  can't  tell;  perhaps  it  is.  Find  me  a  better,  or,  as 
the  poet  says,  '  has  accipe  mecum.'     I  say,  is  that  the  gate- 


A  MORNING  CALL  AT  TILNEY.  813 

lodge?  Tony,  old  fellow,  I  hope  I'll  have  you  spending 
your  Christmas  here  one  of  these  days,  with  Skeff  Darner 
your  host !  " 

"More  unlikely  things  have  happened!"  said  Ton}^ 
quietly. 

"What  a  cold  northernism  is  that!  "VVhy,  man,  what  so 
likely  —  what  so  highly  probable  —  what,  were  I  a  sanguine 
fellow,  would  I  say  so  nearly  certain?  It  was  through  a 
branch  of  the  Damers  —  no,  of  the  Nevils,  I  mean  —  who  in- 
termarried with  us,  that  the  Maxwells  got  the  estate.  Paul 
Nevil  was  Morton  Maxwell's  mother  —  aunt,  I  should  say  —  " 

"  Or  uncle,  perhaps,"  gravely  interposed  Tony. 

"Yes,  uncle,  —  you 're  right !  but  you've  muddled  my 
genealogy  for  all  that !  Let  us  see.  Who  was  Xoel  Skef- 
fington?  Noel  was  a  sort  of  pivot  in  our  family-engine, 
and  everything  seemed  to  depend  on  him ;  and  such  a  re- 
spect had  we  for  his  intentions,  that  we  went  on  contest- 
ing the  meaning  of  his  last  will  till  we  found  out  there 
was  nothing  more  left  to  fight  for.  This  Noel  was  the  man 
that  caught  King  George's  horse  when  he  was  run  away  with 
at  the  battle  of  Dettingen ;  and  the  King  wanted  to  make 
him  a  baronet,  but  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  asked  how 
he  had  ever  incurred  the  royal  displeasure  to  be  visited 
with  such  a  mark  of  disgrace?  'At  all  events,'  said  he, 
'  my  innocent  child,  who  is  four  years  old,  could  never  have 
offended  your  Majesty.  Do  not,  therefore,  involve  him  in 
my  shame.  Commute  the  sentence  to  knighthood,  and  my 
dishonor  will  die  with  me.'  " 

"  I  never  heard  of  greater  insolence,"  said  Tony. 

"It  saved  us,  though;  but  for  this,  I  should  have  been 
Sir  Skeflfington  to-day.     Is  that  the  house  I  see  yonder?" 

"That's  a  wing  of  it." 

"  '  Home  of  my  fathers,  how  my  bosom  throbs ! '  What 's 
the  next  line?  'Home  of  my  fathers,  through  my  heart 
there  runs  ! '  That 's  it,  —  '  there  runs '  —  runs.  I  forget 
how  it  goes,  but  I  suppose  it  must  rhyme  to  '  duns.' " 

"Now,  try  and  be  reasonable  for  a  couple  of  minutes," 
said  Tony.  "  I  scarcely  am  known  to  Mrs.  Maxwell  at  all. 
I  don't  mean  to  stop  here ;  I  intend  to  go  back  to-night. 
What  are  your  movements  ?  " 


314  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Let  the  Fates  decide;  that  is  to  say,  I'll  toss  up, — 
heads,  and  I  am  to  have  the  estate,  and  therefore  remain ; 
tails,  —  I'm  disinherited,  and  go  back  with  you." 

"  I  want  you  to  be  serious,  Skeffy." 

"Very  kind  of  you,  when  I've  only  got  fourteen  days' 
leave,  and  three  of  them  gone  already." 

"  I  'd  rather  you'd  return  with  me  ;  but  I  'd  not  like  you 
to  risk  your  future  to  please  me." 

"Has  jealousy  no  share  in  this?  Be  frank  and  open  : 
'  Crede  Damer '  is  our  proud  motto ;  and  by  Jove,  if  certain 
tailors  and  bootmakers  did  not  accept  it,  it  would  be  an  evil 
day  for  your  humble  servant !  " 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Tony,  gravely. 

"  You  fear  I  '11  make  love  to  '  your  widow,'  Tony.  Don't 
get  so  red,  old  fellow,  nor  look  as  if  you  wanted  to  throw 
me  into  the  fish-pond." 

"  I  had  half  a  mind  to  do  it,"  muttered  Tony,  in  some- 
thing between  jest  and  earnest. 

"I  knew  it,  —  I  saw  it.  Y^ou  looked  what  the  Y^ankees 
call  mean-ugly ;  and  positively  I  was  afraid  of  you.  But 
just  reflect  on  the  indelible  disgrace  it  would  be  to  you  if  I 
was  drowned." 

"You  can  swim,  I  suppose?" 

"Not  a  stroke ;  it 's  about  the  only  thing  I  cannot  do." 

"  Wh3%  you  told  me  yesterday  that  you  never  shoot,  you 
could  n't  ride,  never  handled  a  fishing-rod." 

"Nor  hemmed  a  pocket-handkerchief,"  broke  in  Skeffy. 
"  I  own  not  to  have  any  small  accomplishments.  What  a 
noble  building  !  I  declare  I  am  attached  to  it  already.  No, 
Tony ;  I  pledge  you  ray  word  of  honor,  no  matter  how 
pressed  I  may  be,   I'll  not  cut  down  a  tree  here." 

"  Y'ou  may  go  round  to  the  stable-yard,"  said  Tony  to  the 
driver,  —  "  they  '11  feed  you  and  your  horse  here." 

"Of  course  they  will,"  cried  Skeffy;  and  then,  grasping 
Tony's  two  hands,  he  said,  "  Y"ou  are  welcome  to  Tilney,  my 
dear  boy ;  I  am  heartily  glad  to  see  you  here." 

Tony  turned  and  pulled  the  bell ;  the  deep  summons 
echoed  loudly,  and  a  number  of  small  dogs  joined  in  the 
uproar  at  the  same  time. 

"There's  'the  deep-mouthed  welcome  as  we  draw   near 


A  MORNING  CALL  AT  TILNEY.  315 

home,'"  said  Skeffy,  while  he  threw  the  end  of  his  cigar 
away. 

A  servant  soon  appeared  and  ushered  them  into  a  large 
low-ceilinged  room,  with  fireplaces  of  antique  fashion,  the 
chimney-pieces  of  dark  oak,  surmounted  by  massive  coats  of 
arms  glowing  in  all  the  colors  of  heraldry.  It  was  eminently 
comfortable  in  all  its  details  of  fat  low  ottomans,  deep  easy- 
chairs,  and  squat  cushions  ;  and  although  the  three  windows 
which  lighted  it  looked  out  upon  a  lawn,  the  view  was  bounded 
by  a  belt  of  trees,  as  though  to  convey  that  it  was  a  room  in 
which  snugness  was  to  be  typified,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
that  pretended  to  elegance.  A  massive  and  splendidly 
bound  Bible,  showing  little  signs  of  use,  lay  on  a  centre 
table;  a  very  well-thumbed  "Peerage"  was  beside  it. 

"I  say,  Tony,  this  is  evidently  Aunt  Maxwell's  own 
drawing-room.  It  has  all  the  peculiar  grimness  of  an  old 
lady's  sanctum ;  and  I  declare  that  fat  old  dog,  snoring 
away  on  the  rug,  looks  like  a  relation."  While  he  stooped 
down  to  examine  the  creature  more  closely,  the  door  opened, 
and  Mrs.  Maxwell,  dressed  in  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  with  a 
small  garden  watering-pot  in  her  hand,  entered.  She  only 
saw  Tony ;  and,  running  towards  him  with  her  open  hand, 
said,  "You  naughty  boy,  didn't  I  tell  you  not  to  come 
here?" 

Tony  blushed  deeply,  and  blurted  something  about  being 
told  or  ordered  to  come  by  Mrs.  Trafford. 

"Well,  well;  it  does  n't  matter  now;  there's  no  danger. 
It's  not  'catching,'  the  doctor  says,  and  she'll  be  up  to- 
morrow. Dear  me !  and  who  is  this  ?  "  The  latter  ques- 
tion was  addressed  to  Skeffy,  who  had  just  risen  from  his 
knees. 

"Mr.  Skeffington  Damer,  ma'am,"  said  Tony. 

"  And  who  are  you,  then?  " 

"  Tony  Butler  :  I  thought  you  knew  me." 

"  To  be  sure  I  do,  and  delighted  to  see  you  too.  And  this 
Pickle  is  Skeff,  is  he?" 

"  Dear  aunt,  let  me  embrace  you,"  cried  Skeffy,  rushing 
rapturously  into  her  arms. 

"Well,  I  declare!"  said  the  old  lady,  looking  from  one 
to  the  other ;   "I  thought,  if  it  was  you,  Skeff,  what  a  great 


316  TONY  BUTLER. 

fine  tall  man  you  had  grown ;    and  there  you  are,  the  same 
little  creature  I  saw  you  last.*' 

"Little,  aunt!  what  do  you  mean  by  little?  Standard  of 
the  Line  !     In  France  I  should  be  a  Grenadier !  " 

The  old  lady  laughed  heartily  at  the  haughty  air  with 
which  he  drew  himself  up  and  threw  forward  his  chest  as  he 
spoke. 

"  What  a  nice  parrot  you  have  sent  me !  but  I  can't  make 
out  what  it  is  he  says." 

"  He  says,  '  Don't  you  wish  you  may  get  it?  '  aunt." 

"Ah!  so  it  is;  and  he  means  luncheon,  I'm  sure,  which 
is  just  coming  on  the  table.  I  hope  you  are  both  very 
hungry?  " 

"  I  ought  to  be,  aunt.  It 's  a  long  drive  from  the  Cause- 
way here.  —  Hold  your  tongue,  you  dog,"  whispered  he  to 
Tony;  "  say  nothing  about  the  three  breakfasts  on  the  road, 
or  I  shall  be  disgraced." 

"  And  how  is  your  mother,  Mr.  Tony  ?  I  hope  she  has  good 
health.  Give  me  your  arm  to  the  dining-room  ;  Pickle  will 
take  care  of  himself.  This  is  a  sickly  season.  The  poor 
dear  Commodore  fell  ill !  and  though  the  weather  is  so  severe, 
woodcocks  very  scarce,  —  there 's  a  step  here,  —  and  all  so 
frightened  for  fear  of  the  scarlatina  that  they  run  away ; 
and  I  really  wanted  you  here  to  introduce  you  to  —  who 
was  it?  —  not  Mrs.  Craycroft,  was  it?  Tell  Mrs.  Trafford 
luncheon  is  ready.  Groves,  and  say  Mr.  Butler  is  here. 
She  does  n't  know  you,  Pickle.  Maybe  you  don't  like  to 
be  called  Pickle  now?'* 

"  Of  course  I  do,  aunt;  it  reminds  me  of  long  ago,"  said 
he,  with  an  air  of  emotion. 

"  By  the  way,  it  was  George,  and  not  you,  I  used  to  call 
Pickle,  — poor  George,  that  went  to  Bombay." 

"Ah,  yes;  he  was  India  Pickle,  aunt,  and  you  used  to 
call  me  Piccalilli !  " 

"  Perhaps  I  did,  but  I  forget.  Here,  take  the  head  of  the 
table  ;  Mr.  Tony,  sit  by  me.  Oh  dear  !  what  a  small  party  ! 
This  day  last  week  we  were  twenty-seven  !  Oh,  he  '11  not 
find  Alice,  for  I  left  her  in  my  flower-garden  ;  I  '11  go  for  her 
myself." 

"  Make  yourself  at  home,  Tony,"  said  Skeffy,  as  soon  as 


A  MORNING   CALL  AT  TILNEY.  317 

the  old  lady  left  the  room.      "  Believe  me,  it  is  with  do  com- 
mon pleasure  that  I  see  you  under  my  roof." 

*'  I  was  going  to  play  parrot,  and  say,  '  Don't  you  wish  you 
may?'"  muttered  Tony,  dryly. 

*'  Unbeliever,  that  will  not  credit  the  mutton  on  his  plate, 
nor  the  sherry  in  his  glass!     Hush!   here  they  are." 

Alice  sailed  proudly  into  the  room,  gave  her  hand  to  Tony 
with  a  pretended  air  of  condescension,  but  a  real  cordiality, 
and  said,  ^'  You're  a  good  boy,  after  all;  and  Bella  sends 
you  all  manner  of  kind  forgivenesses." 

''  My  nephew  Damer,  Alice,"  said  Mrs.  Maxwell,  never 
very  formal  in  her  presentations  of  those  she  regarded  as 
little  more  than  children.  *'l  suppose  he'll  not  mind 
being  called  Pickle  before  you?" 

Even  Tony  —  not  the  shrewdest,  certainly,  of  observers^ 
was  struck  by  the  well-bred  ease  with  which  his  friend  con- 
ducted himself  in  a  situation  of  some  difficulty,  managing  at 
the  same  time  neither  to  offend  the  old  lady's  susceptibilities 
nor  sacrifice  the  respect  he  owed  himself.  In  fact,  the  pres- 
ence of  Alice  recalled  Skeffy,  as  if  by  magic,  to  every  obser- 
vance of  his  daily  life.  She  belonged  to  the  world  he  knew 
best,  —  perhaps  the  only  one  he  knew  at  all ;  and  his  conver- 
sation at  once  became  as  eas}^  and  as  natural  as  though  he 
were  once  more  back  in  the  society  of  the  great  city. 

Mrs.  Maxwell,  however,  would  not  part  with  him  so  easily, 
and  proceeded  to  put  him  through  a  catechism  of  all  their 
connections  —  Skeffingtons,  Darners,  Maxwells,  and  Nevils  — 
in  every  variety  of  combination.  As  Skeffy  avowed  after- 
wards, "  The  '  Little  Go'  was  nothing  to  it."  With  the  inten- 
tion of  shocking  the  old  lady,  and  what  he  called  "  sluinting 
her  "  off  all  her  inquiries,  he  reported  nothing  of  the  family 
but  disasters  and  disgraces.  The  men  and  women  of  the 
house  inherited,  according  to  him,  little  of  the  proud  boast 
of  the  Bayards ;  no  one  ever  before  heard  such  a  cata- 
logue of  rogues,  swindlers,  defaulters,  nor  so  many  narra- 
tives of  separations  and  divorces.  What  he  meant  for  a 
shock  turned  out  a  seduction  ;  and  she  grew  madly  eager 
to  hear  more,  —  more  even  than  he  was  prepared  to  in- 
vent. 

"  Ugh  !  "  said  he  at  last  to  himself,  as  he  tossed  off  a  glass 


318  TONY  BUTLER. 

of  sherry,  "I'm  coming  fast  to  capital  offences,  and  if  she 
presses  me  more  I  '11  give  her  a  murder." 

These  family  histories,  apparently  so  confidentially  im- 
parted, gave  Alice  a  pretext  to  take  Tony  off  with  her,  and 
show  him  the  gardens.  Poor  Tony,  too,  was  eager  to  have 
an  opportunity  to  speak  of  his  friend  to  Alice.  ''  Skeffy 
was  such  a  good  fellow ;  so  hearty,  so  generous,  so  ready 
to  do  a  kind  thing ;  and  then,  such  a  thorough  gentle- 
man !  If  you  had  but  seen  him,  Alice,  in  our  little  cabin, 
so  very  different  in  every  way  from  all  he  is  accustomed  to, 
and  saw  how  delighted  he  was  with  everything ;  how  pleas- 
antly he  fell  into  all  our  habits,  and  how  nice  his  manner  to 
my  mother.  She  reads  people  pretty  quickly  ;  and  I  '11  tell 
you  what  she  said,  —  '  He  has  a  brave  big  heart  under  all 
his  motley.'  " 

"  I  rather  like  him  already,"  said  Alice,  with  a  faint  smile 
at  Tony's  eagerness  ;   "  he  is  going  to  stop  here,  is  he  not?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell.  I  only  know  that  Mrs.  Maxwell  wrote  to 
put  him  off." 

*' Yes,  that  she  did  a  couple  of  days  ago;  but  now  that 
Bella  is  so  much  better,  —  so  nearly  well,  I  may  say,  —  I 
think  she  means  to  keep  him,  and  you  too,  Tony,  if  you  will 
so  far  favor  us." 

"  I  cannot,  —  it  is  impossible." 

"I  had  hoped,  Tony,"  said  she,  with  a  malicious  sparkle 
in  her  eyes,  "  that  it  was  only  against  Lyle  Abbey  you  bore 
a  grudge,  and  not  against  every  house  where  I  should  happen 
to  be  a  visitor." 

''Alice,  Alice!"  said  he,  with  trembling  lips,  "surely 
this  is  not  fair." 

"If  it  be  true,  is  the  question;  and  until  you  have  told 
me  why  you  ceased  to  come  to  us,  — why  3'ou  gave  up  those 
who  always  liked  you,  — I  must,  I  cannot  help  believing  it 
to  be  true." 

Tony  was  silent :  his  heart  swelled  up  as  if  it  would  burst 
his  chest;   but  he  struggled  manfully,  and  hid  his  emotion. 

"I  conclude,"  said  she,  sharply,  "it  was  not  a  mere 
caprice  which  made  you  throw  us  off.  Y^ou  had  a  reason,  or 
something  that  you  fancied  was  a  reason." 

"  It  is  only  fair  to  suppose  so,"  said  he,  gravely. 


£ 


A  MORNING   CALL  AT  TILNEY.  319 

"  Well,  I  '11  give  you  the  benefit  of  that  supposition  ;  and 
I  ask  you,  as  a  matter  of  right,  to  give  me  your  reason." 

''  I  cannot,  Alice,  —  I  cannot,"  stammered  he  out,  while 
a  deadly  paleness  spread  over  his  face. 

"Tony,"  said  she,  gravely,  "  if  you  were  a  man  of  the 
world  like  your  friend  Mr.  Damer,  for  instance,  I  would 
probably  say  that  in  a  matter  of  this  kind  you  ought  to  be 
left  to  your  own  judgment ;  but  you  are  not.  You  are  a 
kind-hearted  simple-minded  boy.  Nay,  don't  blush  and  look 
offended ;  I  never  meant  to  offend  you.  Don't  you  know 
that?  "  and  she  held  out  to  him  her  fair  white  hand,  the 
taper  fingers  trembling  with  a  slight  emotion.  Tony  stooped 
and  kissed  it  with  a  rapturous  devotion.  "  There,  I  did  not 
mean  that.  Master  Tony,"  said  she,  blushing;  "1  never 
intended  your  offence  was  to  be  condoned  ;  I  only  thought  of 
a  free  pardon." 

''Then  give  it  to  me,  Alice,"  said  he,  gulping  down  his 
emotion;  "for  I  am  going  away,  and  who  knows  when  I 
shall  see  you  again  ?  " 

"  Indeed,"  said  she,  with  a  look  of  agitation  ;  "  have  you 
reconsidered  it,  then?  have  you  resolved  to  join  Maitland?" 

"  And  were  you  told  of  this,  Alice?  " 

"  Yes,  Tony :  as  one  who  feels  a  very  deep  interest  in 
you,  I  came  to  hear  it;   but,  indeed,  partly  by  an  accident." 

"Will  you  tell  me  what  it  was  you  heard?"  said  he, 
gravely;  "for  I  am  curious  to  hear  whether  you  know  more 
than  myself." 

"You  were  to  go  abroad  with  Maitland,  —  you  were  to 
travel  on  the  Continent  together." 

"And  I  was  to  be  his  secretary,  eh?"  broke  in  Tony, 
with  a  bitter  laugh ;   ' '  was  n't  that  the  notable  project  ?  " 

"  You  know  well,  Tony,  it  was  to  be  only  in  name." 

"Of  course  I  do;  my  incapacity  would  insure  that 
much." 

"  I  must  say,  Tony,"  said  she,  reproachfully,  "  that  so  far 
as  I  know  of  Mr.  Maitland's  intentions  towards  you,  they 
were  both  kind  and  generous.  In  all  that  he  said  to  me, 
there  was  the  delicacy  of  a  gentleman  towards  a  gentleman." 

"  He  told  you,  however,  that  I  had  refused  his  offer?  " 

"  Yes;  he  said  it  with  much  regret,  and  1  asked  his  leave 


320  TONY  BUTLER. 

to  employ  any  influence  I  might  possess  over  you  to  make 
you  retract  the  refusal,  —  at  least  to  think  again  over  his 
offer." 

*'  And  of  course  he  refused  you  nothing?  "  said  Tony,  with 
a  sneering  smile. 

"  Pardon  me,  —  he  did  not  grant  my  request." 

"Then  I  think  better  of  him  than  I  did  before." 

"  I  suspect,  Tony,  that,  once  you  understood  each  other, 
you  are  men  to  be  friends." 

'^  You  mean  by  that  to  flatter  me,  Alice,  —  and  of  course 
it  is  great  flattery ;  but  whether  it  is  that  I  am  too  conscious 
of  my  own  inferiority,  or  that  I  have,  as  1  feel  I  have,  such 
a  hearty  hatred  of  your  accomplished  friend,  I  would  detest 
the  tie  that  should  bind  me  to  him.  Is  he  coming  back 
here  ?  " 

*'I  do  not  know." 

"  Y"ou  do  not  know!"  said  he,  slowly,  as  he  fixed  his 
eyes  on  her. 

"Take  care,  sir,  take  care;  you  never  trod  on  more  dan- 
gerous ground  than  when  you  forgot  what  was  due  to  me. 
I  told  you  r  did  not  know ;  it  was  not  necessary  I  should 
repeat  it." 

"  There  was  a  time  when  3'ou  rebuked  my  bad  breeding 
less  painfully,  Alice,''  said  he,  in  deep  sorrow;  "  but  these 
are  days  not  to  come  back  again.  I  do  not  know  if  it  is  not 
misery  to  remember  them." 

"John  Anthony  Butler,  Esq.,"  cried  a  loud  voice,  and 
Skeffy  sprang  over  a  box-hedge  almost  as  tall  as  himself, 
flourishing  a  great  sealed  packet  in  his  hand.  "  A  despatch 
on  Her  Majest^^'s  service  just  sent  on  here ! "  cried  he ; 
"and  now  remember,  Tony,  if  it's  Viceroy  you're  named, 
I  insist  on  being  Ciiief  Sec.  ;  if  you  go  to  India  as  Governor- 
General,  I  claim  Bombay  or  Madras.  "\Yliat  stuff  is  the 
fellow  made  of?  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  stolid  indifference? 
He  doesn't  want  to  know  what  the  Fates  have  decreed 
him." 

"  I  don't  care  one  farthing,"  said  Ton\%  dogged h^ 

"Here  goes,  then,  to  see,"  cried  Skeffy,  tearing  open  the 
packet  and  reading:  "  '  Downing  Street,  Friday,  oth. —  ]Mr. 
Butler  will  report  himself  for  service  as  F.  O.  Messenger  on 


A  MORNING  CALL  AT  TILXEY.  321 

Tuesday  morning,  9th.     By  order  of  the  Under-Secretary  of 
State.' " 

"There's  a  way  to  issue  a  service  summons.  It  was 
Graves  wrote  that,  I  'd  swear.  All  he  ought  to  have  said 
was,  '  Butler  for  service,  F.  O.,  to  report  immediately.* " 

"I  suppose  the  form  is  no  great  matter,"  said  Mrs.  Traf- 
ford,  whose  eyes  now  turned  with  an  anxious  interest  towards 
Tony. 

''  The  form  is  everything,  I  assure  you.  The  Chief  Sec= 
retary  is  a  regular  Tartar  about  style.  One  of  our  fellows, 
who  lias  an  impediment  in  his  speech,  once  wrote,  '  I  had 
had,'  in  a  despatch,  and  my  Lord  noted  it  with,  '  It  is  in- 
excusable that  he  should  stutter  in  writing.'  " 

"  I  must  be  there  on  Wednesday,  is  it? "  asked  Tony. 

*' Tuesday  —  Tuesday,  and  in  good  time  too.  But  ain't 
you  lucky,  you  dog  !  The}'  're  so  hard  pressed  for  messen- 
gers, they  've  got  no  time  to  examine  you.  You  are  to 
enter  official  life  ^ja?'  la  petite  porte^  but  you  get  in  without 
knocking." 

"  I  cannot  imagine  that  the  examination  would  be  much  of 
a  difficulty,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford. 

Ton}^  shook  his  head  in  dissent,  and  gave  a  sad  faint  sigh. 

*'I'd  engage  to  coach  him  in  a  week,"  broke  in  Skeffy. 
*'  It  was  I  ground  Vyse  in  Chinese,  and  taught  him  that 
glorious  drinking-song,  '  Tehin  Tehan  Ili-Ta !  '  that  he 
offered  to  sing  before  the  Commissioners  if  they  could  play 
the  accompaniment." 

Leaving  Skeffy  to  revel  in  his  gratifying  memories  of  such 
literary  successes,  Alice  turned  away  a  few  steps  with 
Tony. 

*'  Let  us  part  good  friends,  Tony,"  said  she,  in  a  low 
tone.  "  You  '11  go  up  to  the  Abbey,  I  hope,  and  wish  them 
a  good-bye,  won't  you?  " 

''  I  am  half  ashamed  to  go  now,"  muttered  he. 

*' No,  no,  Tony;  don't  fancy  that  there  is  any  bi-each  in 
our  friendship ;  and  tell  me  another  thing :  would  you  like 
me  to  write  to  3'ou?  I  know  you're  not  very  fond  of  writ- 
ing yourself,  but  I  '11  not  be  exacting.  You  shall  have  two 
for  one, —  three,  if  you  deserve  it." 

He  could  not  utter  a  word ;  his  heart  felt  as  if  it  would 

21 


322  TONY  BUTLER. 

burst  through  his  side,  and  a  sense  of  suffocation  almost 
choked  him.  He  knew,  if  he  tried  to  speak,  that  his  emo- 
tion would  break  out,  and  in  his  pride  he  would  have 
suffered  torture  rather  than  shed  a  tear. 

With  a  woman's  nice  tact  she  saw  his  confusion,  and  has- 
tened to  relieve  it.  "  The  first  letter  must,  however,  be 
from  you,  Tony.  It  need  be  only  half  a  dozen  lines,  to  say 
if  you  have  passed  your  examination,  what  you  think  of 
your  new  career,  and  where  you  are  going." 

"I  couldn't  write!"  stammered  out  Tony;  "  I  could 
not!" 

"Well,  I  will,"  said  she,  with  a  tone  of  kind  feeling. 
"Your  mother  shall  tell  me  where  to  address  you." 

"  You  will  see  mother,  then?  "  asked  he,  eagerly. 

"  Of  course,  Tony.  If  Mrs.  Butler  will  permit  me,  I  will 
be  a  frequent  visitor." 

"Oh,  if  I  thought  so!" 

"  Do  think  so,  — be  assured  of  it;  and  remember,  Tony, 
whenever  you  have  courage  to  think  of  me  as  your  own  old 
friend  of  long  ago,  w^ite  and  tell  me  so."  These  words 
were  not  said  without  a  certain  ditiiculty.  "There,  don't 
let  us  appear  foolish  to  your  smart  friend,  yonder.  Good- 
bye." 

"  Good-b^^e,  Alice,"  said  he,  and  now  the  tears  rushed 
fast,  and  rolled  down  his  cheeks ;  but  he  drew  his  hand 
roughly  across  his  face,  and,  springing  upon  the  car,  said, 
"  Drive  on,  and  as  hard  as  you  can ;  I  am  too  late  here." 

Skeffy  shouted  his  adieux,  and  waved  a  most  picturesque 
farewell ;  but  Tony  neither  heard  nor  saw  either.  Both 
hands  were  pressed  on  his  face,  and  he  sobbed  as  if  his  very 
heart  was  breaking. 

"Well,  if  that's  not  a  melodramatic  exit,  I'm  a  Dutch- 
man," exclaimed  Skeffy,  turning  to  address  Alice;  but  she 
too  was  gone,  and  he  was  left  standing  there  alone. 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me,  Bella  !  don't  scold,  and  I  '11  tell 
you  of  an  indiscretion  I  have  just  committed,"  said  Alice,  as 
she  sat  on  her  sister's  bed. 

"I  think  I  can  guess  it,"  said  Bella,  looking  up  in  her 
face. 

"  No,  you  cannot,  —  you  are  not  within  a  thousand  miles 


A  MORNING  CALL  AT  TILNEY.  323 

of  it.  I  know  perfectly  what  you  mean,  Bella  ;  you  suspect 
that  I  have  opened  a  flirtation  with  the  distinguished 
Londoner,  the  wonderful  Skeffington  Darner." 

Bella  shook  her  head  dissentingly. 

"Not  but  one  might,"  continued  Alice,  laughing,  "in  a 
dull  season,  with  an  empty  house  and  nothing  to  do ;  just  as 
I  "ve  seen  you  trying  to  play  that  twankling  old  harpsichord 
in  the  Flemish  drawing-room,  for  want  of  better;  but  you 
are  wrong,  for  all  that." 

"  It  was  not  of  him  I  was  thinking,  Alice,  — on  my  word, 
it  was  not.  I  had  another,  and,  I  suppose,  a  very  different 
person  in  my  head." 

"Tony!" 

^' Just  so." 

"Well,  what  of  him;  and  what  the  indiscretion  with 
which  you  would  charge  me  ?  " 

"With  which  you  charge  yourself,  Alice  dearest!  I 
see  it  all  in  that  pink  spot  on  your  cheek,  in  that  trembling 
of  your  lips,  and  in  that  quick  impatience  of  your  manner." 

"Dear  me!  what  can  it  be  which  has  occasioned  such 
agitation,  and  called  up  such  terrible  witnesses  against 
me?" 

"I'll  tell  you,  Alice.  You  have  sent  away  that  poor  boy 
more  in  love  than  ever.  You  have  let  him  carry  away  a 
hope  which  you  well  know  is  only  a  delusion." 

"  I  protest  this  is  too  bad.  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a 
lecture,  and  I  '11  just  go  downstairs  and  make  a  victim  of 
Mr.  Damer." 

Alice  arose  and  dashed  out  of  the  room ;  not,  however,  to 
do  as  she  said,  but  to  hurry  to  her  own  room,  and  lock  the 
door  after  her  as  she  entered  it. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 


TONY    ASKS    COUNSEL. 


It  was  just  as  Bella  said ;  Alice  had  sent  off  that  poor  boy 
'•twice  as  much  in  love  as  ever."  Poor  fellow!  what  a 
strange  conflict  was  that  that  raged  within  him !  —  all  that 
can  make  life  glorious,  give  ecstasy  to  the  present  and  hope 
to  the  future,  mingled  with  everything  that  can  throw  a 
gloom  over  existence,  and  make  it  a  burden  and  a  task. 
Must  it  be  ever  thus?  —  must  the  most  exquisite  moments 
of  our  life,  when  we  have  youth  and  hope  and  health  and 
energy,  be  dashed  with  fears  that  make  us  forget  all  the 
blessings  of  our  lot,  and  deem  ourselves  the  most  wretched 
of  created  beings? 

In  this  feverish  alternation  he  travelled  along  homeward, 
—  now  thinking  of  the  great  things  he  could  do  and  dare  to 
win  her  love,  now  foreshadowing  the  time  when  all  hopes 
should  be  extinguished,  and  he  should  walk  the  world  alone 
and  forsaken.  He  went  over  in  memory  —  who  has  not  done 
so  at  one  time  or  other?  —  all  she  had  said  to  him  at  their 
last  meeting,  asking  what  ground  there  might  be  for  hope 
in  this,  what  reason  for  belief  in  that.  With  what  intense 
avidity  do  we.  seek  for  the  sands  of  gold  in  this  crushed  ar.d 
crumbled  rock  I  how  eagerly  do  we  peer  to  catch  one  glitter- 
ing grain  that  shall  whisper  to  us  of  wealth  hereafter! 

Surely,  thought  he,  Alice  is  too  good  and  too  true- 
hearted  to  give  me  even  this  much  of  hope  if  she  meant  me 
to  despair.  Why  should  she  offer  to  write  to  me  if  she 
intended  that  I  was  to  forget  her?  "I  wonder,"  muttered 
he,  in  his  dark  spirit  of  doubt, — "I  wonder  if  this  be 
simply  the  woman's  way  of  treating  a  love  she  deems  beneath 
her?  "  He  had  read  in  some  book  or  other  that  it  is  no 
uncommon  thing  for  those  women  whose  grace  and  beauty 


TONY  ASKS   COUNSEL.  325 

win  homage  and  devotion  thus  to  sport  with  the  affections  of 
their  worshippers,  and  that  in  this  exercise  of  a  cruel  power 
they  find  an  exquisite  delight.  But  Alice  was  too  proud  and 
too  high-hearted  for  such  an  ignoble  pastime.  But  then  he 
had  read,  too,  that  women  sometimes  fancy  that,  by  encour- 
aging a  devotion  they  never  mean  to  reward,  they  tend  to 
elevate  men's  thoughts,  ennobling  their  ambitions,  and 
inspiring  them  with  purer,  holier  hopes.  What  if  she  should 
mean  this,  and  no  more  than  this?  Would  not  her  very 
hatred  be  more  bearable  than  such  pity?  For  a  while  this 
cruel  thought  unmanned  him,  and  he  sat  there  like  one 
stunned  and  powerless. 

For  some  time  the  road  had  led  between  the  low  furze-clad 
hills  of  the  country,  but  now  they  had  gained  the  summit  of 
a  ridge,  and  there  lay  beneath  them  that  wild  coast-line, 
broken  with  crag  and  promontory  towards  the  sea,  and  inland 
swelling  and  falling  in  every  fanciful  undulation,  yellow 
with  the  furze  and  the  wild  broom,  but  grander  for  its  wide 
expanse  than  many  a  scene  of  stronger  features.  How  dear 
to  his  heart  it  was!  How  inexpressibly  dear  the  spot  that 
was  interwoven  with  every  incident  of  his  life  and  every 
spring  of  his  hope !  There  the  green  lanes  he  used  to  saunter 
with  Alice;  there  the  breezy  downs  over  which  they  can- 
tered; yonder  the  little  creek  where  they  had  Once  sheltered 
from  a  storm:  he  could  see  the  rock  on  which  he  lit  a  fire 
in  boyish  imitation  of  a  shipwrecked  crew!  It  was  of  Alice 
that  every  crag  and  cliff,  every  bay  and  inlet  spoke. 

"And  is  all  that  happiness  gone  forever?  "  cried  he,  as  he 
stood  gazing  at  the  scene.  "I  wonder,"  thought  he,  "could 
Skeffy  read  her  thoughts  and  tell  me  how  she  feels  towards 
me?  I  wonder  will  he  ever  talk  to  her  of  me,  and  what  will 
they  say?  "  His  cheek  grew  hot  and  red,  and  he  muttered 
to  himself,  "Who  knows  but  it  may  be  in  pity?  "  and  with 
the  bitterness  of  the  thought  the  tears  started  to  his  eyes, 
and  coursed  down  his  cheeks. 

That  same  book,  —  how  it  rankled,  like  a  barbed  arrow, 
in  his  side!  —  that  same  book  said  that  men  are  always 
wrong  in  their  readings  of  woman, —  that  they  cannot  under- 
stand the  finer,  nicer,  more  subtle  springs  of  her  action; 
and  in  their  coarser  appreciation  they  constantly  destroy  the 


326  TONY  BUTLER. 

interest  they  would  give  worlds  to  create.  It  was  as  this 
thought  flashed  across  his  memory  the  car-driver  exclaimed 
aloud,  "Ah,  Master  Tony,  did  ever  you  see  as  good  a  pony 
as  yon?  he  's  carried  the  minister  these  eighteen  years,  and 
look  at  him  how  he  jogs  along  to-day ! " 

He  pointed  to  a  little  path  in  the  valley  where  old  Dr. 
Stewart  ambled  along  on  his  aged  palfrey,  the  long  mane 
and  flowing  tail  of  the  beast  marking  him  out  though  nigh 
half  a  mile  away. 

"Why  didn't  I  think  of  that  before?"  thought  Tony. 
"Dolly  Stewart  is  the  very  one  to  help  me.  She  has  not 
been  bred  and  brought  up  like  Alice,  but  she  has  plenty  of 
keen  woman's  wit,  and  she  has  all  a  sister's  love  for  me, 
besides.  I  '11  just  go  and  tell  her  how  we  parted,  and  I  '11 
ask  her  frankly  what  she  says  to  it." 

Cheered  by  this  bright  idea,  he  pursued  his  way  in  better 
spirits,  and  soon  reached  the  little  path  which  wound  off 
from  the  high-road  through  the  fields  to  the  Burnside.  Not 
a  spot  there  unassociated  with  memories,  but  they  were  the 
memories  of  early  boyhood.  The  clump  of  white  thorns 
they  used  to  call  the  Forest,  and  where  they  went  to  hunt 
wild  beasts ;  the  little  stream  they  fancied  a  great  and  rapid 
river,  swarming  with  alligators ;  the  grassy  slope,  where  they 
had  their  house,  and  the  tiny  garden  whose  flowers,  stuck 
down  at  daybreak,  were  withered  before  noon !  —  too  faith- 
ful emblems  of  the  joys  they  illustrated ! 

"  Surely,"  thought  he,  "no  boy  had  ever  such  a  rare  play- 
fellow as  Dolly;  so  ready  to  take  her  share  in  all  the  rough 
vicissitudes  of  a  boy's  pleasures,  and  yet  to  bring  to  them 
a  sort  of  storied  interest  and  captivation  which  no  mere  boy 
could  ever  have  contributed.  What  a  little  romance  the 
whole  was,  —  just  because  she  knew  how  to  impart  the 
charm  of  a  story  to  all  they  did  and  all  they  planned !  " 

It  was  thus  thinking  that  he  entered  the  cottage.  So  still 
was  everything  that  he  could  hear  the  scratching  noise  of  a 
pen  as  a  rapid  writer's  hand  moved  over  the  paper.  He 
peeped  cautiously  in  and  saw  Dolly  seated,  writing  busily 
>^  at  a  table  all  strewn  over  with  manuscript:  an  open  book, 
\  supported  by  other  books,  lay  before  her,  at  which  from 
time  to  time  she  glanced. 


TONY  ASKS   COUNSEL.  327 

Before  Tony  had  advanced  a  step  she  turned  round  and 
saw  him.  '^Was  it  not  strange,  Tony?"  said  she,  and  she 
flushed  as  she  spoke.  "I  felt  that  you  were  there  before  I 
saw  you ;  just  like  long  ago,  when  I  always  knew  where  3^ou 
were  hid." 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  that  same  long  ago,  Dolly,"  said 
he,  taking  a  chair  beside  her,  ''as  I  came  up  through  the 
fields.  There  everything  is  the  same  as  it  used  to  be  when 
we  went  to  seek  our  fortune  across  the  sandy  desert,  near 
the  Black  Lake." 

"Xo,"  said  she,  correcting;  "the  Black  Lake  was  at  the 
foot  of  Giant's  Rock,  beyond  the  rye-field." 

"So  it  was,  Dolly;  you  are  right." 

"Ah,  Master  Tony,  I  suspect  I  have  a  better  memory  of 
those  days  than  you  have.  To  be  sure,  I  have  not  had  as 
many  things  happening  in  the  mean  while  to  trouble  these 
memories." 

There  was  a  tone  of  sadness  in  her  voice,  very  slight, 
very  faint,  indeed,  but  still  enough  to  tinge  these  few  words 
with  melancholy. 

"And  what  is  all  this  writing  about?"  said  he,  moving 
his  hands  through  the  papers.  "Are  you  composing  a 
book,   Dolly?" 

"No,"  said  she,  timidly;  "I  am  onl}^  translating  a  little 
German  story.  When  I  was  up  in  London,  I  was  lucky 
enough  to  obtain  the  insertion  of  a  little  fairy  tale  in  a 
small  periodical  meant  for  children,  and  the  editor  encour- 
aged me  to  try  and  render  one  of  Andersen's  stories;  but  I 
am  a  very  sorry  German,  and,  I  fear  me,  a  still  sorrier  prose 
writer;  and  so,  Tony,  the  work  goes  on  as  slowly  as  that 
bridge  of  ours  used  long  ago.  Do  you  remember  when  it 
was  made,  we  never  had  the  courage  to  pass  over  it!  May- 
hap it  will  be  the  same  with  m}^  poor  story,  and  when  fin- 
ished, it  will  remain  unread." 

"But  why  do  you  encounter  such  a  piece  of  labor?"  said 
he.     "This  must  have  taken  a  week  or  more." 

"A  month  yesterday,  m}^  good  Tony;  and  very  proud  I 
am,  too,  that  I  did  it  in  a  month." 

"And  for  what,  in  heaven's  name?" 

"For  three  bright  sovereigns,  Master  Tony!"  said  she, 
blushing. 


328  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that,"  said  he,  in  deep  shame  and 
confusion.  "1  meant  only,  why  did  you  engage  on  such  a 
hard  task." 

"I  know  you  did  n't  mean  it,  Tony;  but  I  was  so  proud 
of  my  success  as  an  author  it  would  out.  Yes,"  said  she, 
with  a  feigned  air  of  importance,  "I  have  just  disposed  of 
my  copyright;  and  you  know,  Tony,  Milton  did  not  get  a 
great  deal  more  for  '  Paradise  Lost.'  You  see,"  added  she, 
seriously,  "what  with  poor  papa's  age  and  his  loneliness, 
and  my  own  not  over-great  strength,  I  don't  think  I  shall  try 
(at  least,  not  soon)  to  be  a  governess  again ;  and  it  behoves 
me  to  be  as  little  as  I  can  of  a  burden  to  him;  and  after 
thinking  of  various  things,  I  have  settled  upon  this  as  the 
best." 

"What  a  good  girl  you  are!"  said  he,  and  he  fixed  his 
eyes  full  upon  her;  nor  did  he  know  how  admiringly,  till  he 
saw  that  her  face,  her  forehead,  and  even  her  neck  were 
crimson  with  shame  and  confusion. 

"There  is  no  such  great  goodness  in  doing  what  is  simply 
one's  duty,"  said  she,  gravely. 

"I  don't  know  that,  Dolly." 

"Come,  come,  Tony,  you  never  fancied  yourself  a  hero, 
just  because  you  are  willing  to  earn  your  bread,  and  ready 
to  do  so  by  some  sacrifice  of  your  tastes  and  habits." 

The  allusion  recalled  Tony  to  himself  and  his  own  cares, 
and  after  a  few  seconds  of  deep  thought,  he  said,  "  I  am 
going  to  make  the  venture  now,  Dolly.  I  am  called  away 
to  London  by  telegraph,  and  am  to  leave  to-morrow 
morning." 

"Are  you  fully  prepared,  Tony,  for  the  examination?  " 

"Luckily  for  me,  they  do  not  require  it.  Some  acci- 
dental want  of  people  has  made  them  call  in  all  the  available 
fellows  at  a  moment's  warning,  and  in  this  way  1  may 
chance  to  slip  into  the  service  unchallenged." 

"Nay,  but,  Tony,"  said  she,  reproachfully,  "you  surely 
could  face  the  examination?" 

"I  could  face  it  just  as  I  could  face  being  shot  at,  of 
course,  but  with  the  same  certainty  of  being  bowled  over. 
Don't  you  know,  Dolly,  that  I  never  knew  my  grammar  lonoj 
ago  till  you  had  dinned  it  into  my  head;  and  as  you  never 


TONY  ASKS   COUNSEL.  329 

come  to  my  assistance  now,  I  know  well  what  my  fate  would 
be." 

*'My  dear  Tony,"  said  she,  "do  get  rid  once  for  all  of  the 
habit  of  underrating  your  own  abilities;  as  my  dear  father 
says,  people  very  easily  make  self-depreciation  a  plea  of 
indolence.  There,  don't  look  so  dreary;  I  'm  not  going  to 
moralize  in  the  few  last  minutes  we  are  to  have  together. 
Talk  to  me  about  yourself." 

"It  was  for  that  I  came,  Dolly,"  said  he,  rising  and  taking 
a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  the  room ;  for,  in  truth,  he  was 
sorely  puzzled  how  to  approach  the  theme  that  engaged  him. 
"I  want  your  aid;  I  want  your  woman's  wit  to  help  me  in  a 
difficulty.  Here  's  what  it  is,  Dolly,"  and  he  sat  down  again 
at  her  side,  and  took  her  hand  in  his  own.  "Tell  me, 
Dolly,"  said  he,  suddenly,  "is  it  true,  as  I  have  read  some- 
where, that  a  woman,  after  having  made  a  man  in  love  with 
her,  will  boast  that  she  is  not  in  the  least  bound  to  requite 
his  affection  if  she  satisfies  herself  that  she  has  elevated  him 
in  his  ambition,  given  a  higher  spring  to  his  hope,  —  made 
him,  in  fact,  something  better  and  nobler  than  his  own  unin- 
spired nature  had  ever  taught  him  to  be?  I  'm  not  sure  that 
I  have  said  what  I  meant  to  say;  but  you  '11  be  able  to  guess 
what  I  intend." 

"You  mean,  perhaps,  will  a  woman  accept  a  man's  love 
as  a  means  of  serving  him  without  any  intention  of  re- 
turning it?" 

Perhaps  he  did  not  like  the  fashion  in  which  she  put  his 
question,  for  he  did  not  answer,  save  by  a  nod. 

"I  say  3^es;  such  a  thing  is  possible,  and  might  happen 
readily  enough  if  great  difference  of  station  separated 
them." 

"Do  you  mean  if  one  was  rich  and  the  other  poor?" 

"Not  exactly:  because  inequalities  of  fortune  may  exist 
between  persons  of  equal  condition." 

"In  which  case,"  said  he,  hurriedly,  "you  would  not  call 
their  stations  unequal,  would  you?  " 

"That  would  depend  on  how  far  wealth  contributed  to  the 
habits  of  the  wealthier.  Some  people  are  so  accustomed  to 
affluence,  it  is  so  much  the  accompaniment  of  their  daily 
lives,  that  the  world  has  for  them  but  one  aspect." 


330  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Like  our  neighbors  here,  the  Lyles,  for  instance?"  said 
he. 

Dolly  gave  a  slight  start,  like  a  sudden  pang  of  pain,  and 
grew  deadly  pale.  She  drew  away  her  hand  at  the  same 
time,  and  passed  it  across  her  brow. 

"Does  your  head  ache,  dear  Dolly?"  asked  he,  compas- 
sionately. 

"Slightly;  it  is  seldom  quite  free  of  pain.  You  have 
chosen  a  poor  guide,  Tony,  when  there  is  a  question  of  the 
habits  of  fine  folk.  None  know  so  little  of  their  ways  as  I 
do.  But  surely  you  do  not  need  guidance.  Surely  you  are 
well  capable  of  understanding  them  in  all  their  moods." 

With  all  her  attempts  to  appear  calm  and  composed,  her 
lips  shook  and  her  cheeks  trembled  as  she  spoke;  and 
Tou}^,  more  struck  by  her  looks  than  her  words,  passed  his 
arm  round  her,  and  said,  in  a  kind  and  affectionate  voice, 
"I  see  you  are  not  well,  my  own  dear  Dolly;  and  that  I 
ought  not  to  come  here  troubling  you  about  my  own  selfish 
cares;  but  I  can  never  help  feeling  that  it 's  a  sister  I  speak 
to." 

"Yes,  a  sister,"  said  she,  in  a  faint  whisper, — "a 
sister!  " 

"And  that  your  brother  Tony  has  the  right  to  come  to 
you  for  counsel  and  help." 

"So  he  has,"  said  she,  gulping  down  something  like  a 
sob;  "but  these  days,  when  my  head  is  weary  and  tired, 
and  when  —  as  to-da}^  Tony  —  I  am  good  for  nothing  — 
Tell  me,"  said  she,  hastily,  "how  does  your  mother  bear 
your  going  away?  Will  she  let  me  come  and  sit  with  her 
often?     I  hope  she  will." 

"That  she  will,  and  be  so  happy  to  have  3'ou  too;  and 
only  think,  Dolly,  Alice  Lyle  —  Mrs.  Trafford,  I  mean  —  has 
offered  to  come  and  keep  her  company  sometimes.  I  hope 
you '11  meet  her  there;  how  3'ou  'd  like  her,  Dolly!  " 

Dolly  turned  away  her  head;  and  the  tears,  against  which 
she  had  struggled  so  long,  now  burst  forth,  and  slowly  fell 
along  her  cheek. 

"You  must  not  fancy,  Dolly,  that  because  Alice  is  rich 
and  great  you  will  like  her  less.  Heaven  knows,  if  humble 
fortune  could  separate  us,  ours  might  have  done  so." 


TOXY  ASKS   COUNSEL.  331 

*'My  head  is  splitting,  Tony  dear.  It  is  one  of  those 
sudden  attacks  of  pain.  Don't  be  angry  if  I  say  good-bye; 
there  's  nothing  for  it  but  a  dark  room,  and  quiet." 

"My  poor  dear  Dolly,"  said  he,  pressing  her  to  him,  and 
kissing  her  twice  on  the  cheek. 

"Xo,  no!"  cried  she,  hysterically,  as  though  to  some- 
thing she  was  answering;  and  then,  dashing  away,  she 
rushed  from  the  room,  and  Tony  could  hear  her  door  shut 
and  locked  as  she  passed  in. 

"  How  changed  from  what  she  used  to  be ! "  muttered  he, 
as  he  went  his  way;  "I  scarcely  can  believe  she  is  the 
same!  And,  after  all,  what  light  has  she  thrown  on  the 
difficulty  I  put  before  her?  Or  was  it  that  I  did  not  place 
the  matter  as  clearly  as  I  might?  Was  I  too  guarded,  or 
was  I  too  vague?  Well,  well.  I  remember  the  time  when, 
no  matter  how  stupid  /  was,  she  would  soon  have  found  out 
my  meaning !  What  a  dreary  thing  that  life  of  a  governess 
must  be,  when  it  could  reduce  one  so  quick  of  apprehension 
and  so  ready-witted  as  she  was  to  such  a  state  as  this! 
Oh,  is  she  not  changed ! "  And  this  was  the  burden  of  his 
musings  as  he  wended  his  way  towards  home. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

SIR   ARTHUR    ON    LIFE    AND    THE    WORLD    IN   GENERAL. 

"Here  it  is  at  last,  mother,"  said  Touy,  holding  up  the 
"  despatch  "  as  he  entered  the  cottage. 

"The  order  for  the  examination,  Tony!  "  said  she,  as  she 
turned  pale. 

"No,  but  the  order  to  do  without  it,  mother  dear!  —  the 
order  for  Anthony  Butler  to  report  himself  for  service, 
without  any  other  test  than  his  readiness 'to  go  wherever 
they  want  to  send  him.  It  seems  that  there  's  a  row  some- 
where —  or  several  rows  —  just  now.  Heaven  bless  the  fel- 
lows that  got  them  up,  for  it  gives  them  no  time  at  the 
Office  to  go  into  any  impertinent  inquiries  as  to  one's 
French,  or  decimal  fractions,  or  the  other  qualifications 
deemed  essential  to  carrying  a  letter-bag,  and  so  they  've 
sent  for  me  to  go  off  to  Japan." 

"To  Japan,  Tony,  — to  Japan?  " 

"I  don't  mean  positively  to  Japan,  for  Skeffy  says  it 
might  be  Taganrog,  or  Timbuctoo,  or  Tamboff,  or  some  other 
half-known  place.  But  no  matter,  mother;  it's  so  much  a 
mile,  and  something  besides,  per  day;  and  the  short  and 
long  of  it  is,  I  am  to  show  myself  on  Tuesday,  the  9th,  at 
Downing  Street,  there  to  be  dealt  with  as  the  law  may 
direct." 

"It's  a  hasty  summons,  my  poor  Tony  —  " 

"It  might  be  worse,  mother.  What  would  we  say  to  it  if 
it  were,  '  Come  up  and  be  examined  '  ?  I  think  I  'm  a  good- 
tempered  fellow;  but  I  declare  to  3'ou  frankly,  if  one  of  those 
*  Dons  '  were  to  put  a  question  to  me  that  I  could  n't  answer, 
—  and  I  'm  afraid  it  would  not  be  easy  to  put  any  other,  — 
I  'd  find  it  very  hard  not  to  knock  him  down!  1  mean,  of 
course,  mother,  if  he  did  it  offensively,  with  a  chuckle  over 


ON  LIFE  AND  THE  WORLD  IN  GENERAL.  333 

my  ignorance,  or  something  that  seemed  to  say,  '  There  's  a 
blockhead,  if  ever  there  was  one!'  I  know  I  couldn't 
help  it!" 

"Oh,  Tony,  Tony!"  said  she,  deprecatingly. 

*'Yes,  it 's  all  very  well  to  say  Tony,  Tony;  but  here  's 
how  it  is.  It  would  be  '  all  up  '  with  me.  It  would  be  by 
that  time  decided  that  I  was  good  for  nothing,  and  to  be 
turned  back.  The  moment  would  be  a  triumphant  one  for 
the  fellow  that '  plucked  '  me,  —  it  always  is,  I  'm  told,  —  but 
I  '11  be  shot  if  it  should  be  all  triumph  to  him !  " 

"I  won't  believe  this  of  you,  Tony,"  said  she,  gravely. 
"It 's  not  like  your  father,  sir!  " 

"Then  I  'd  not  do  it,  mother,  —  at  least,  if  I  could  help 
it,"  said  he,  growing  very  red.  "I  say,  mother,  is  it  too 
late  to  go  up  to  the  Abbey  and  bid.  Sir  Arthur  good-bye? 
Alice  asked  me  to  do  it,  and  I  promised  her." 

"Well,  Tony,  I  don't  know  how  you  feel  about  these 
things  now,  but  there  was  a  time  that  you  never  thought 
much  what  hour  of  the  day  or  night  it  was  when  you  went 
there." 

"It  used  to  be  so!  "  said  he,  thoughtfully;  and  then 
added,  "but  I  '11  go,  at  all  events,  mother;  but  I  '11  not  be 
long  away,  for  I  must  have  a  talk  with  you  before  bed- 
time." 

"I  have  a  note  written  to  Sir  Arthur  here;  will  you  just 
give  it  to  him,  Tony,  or  leave  it  for  him  when  you  're  com- 
ing away,  for  it  wants  no  answer?" 

"All  right,  mother;  don't  take  tea  till  I  come  back,  and 
I  '11  do  my  best  to  come  soon." 

It  was  a  well-worn  path  that  led  from  the  cottage  to  Lyle 
Abbey.  There  was  not  an  hour  of  day  or  night  Tony  had 
not  travelled  it;  and  as  he  went  now,  thoughts  of  all  these 
long-ao:os  would  crowd  on  his  memor}',  making  him  ask  him- 
self, Was  there  ever  any  one  had  so  much  happiness  as  I 
had  in  those  days?  Is  it  possible  that  my  life  to  come  will 
ever  replace  to  me  such  enjoyment  as  that? 

He  was  not  a  very  imaginative  j'outh,  but  he  had  that 
amount  of  the  quality  that  suffices  for  small  castle-building; 
and  he  went  on,  as  he  walked,  picturing  to  himself  what 
would   be  the  boon  he  would  ask  from  Fortune  if  some 


334  TONY  BUTLER. 

benevolent  fairy  were  to  start  out  from  the  tall  ferns  and 
grant  him  his  wish.  Would  it  be  to  be  rich  and  titled  and 
great,  so  that  he  might  propose  to  make  Alice  his  wife  with- 
out any  semblance  of  inordinate  pretension?  or  would  it  not 
be  to  remain  as  he  was,  poor  and  humble  in  condition,  and 
that  Alice  should  be  in  a  rank  like  his  own,  living  in  a  cot- 
tage like  Dolly  Stewart,  with  little  household  cares  to  look 
after? 

It  was  a  strange  labyrinth  these  thoughts  led  him  into, 
and  he  soon  lost  his  way  completely",  unable  to  satisfy  him- 
self whether  Alice  might  not  lose  in  fascination  when  no 
longer  surrounded  by  all  the  splendid  appliances  of  that  high 
station  she  adorned,  or  whether  her  native  gracefulness  would 
not  be  far  more  attractive  when  her  life  became  ennobled 
by  duties.  A  continual  comparison  of  Alice  and  Dolly 
would  rise  to  his  mind;  nothing  could  be  less  alike,  and 
yet  there  they  were,  in  incessant  juxtaposition ;  and  while 
he  pictured  Alice  in  the  humble  manse  of  the  minister, 
beautiful  as  he  had  ever  seen  her,  he  wondered  whether  she 
would  be  able  to  subdue  her  proud  spirit  to  such  lowly  ways, 
and  make  of  that  thatched  cabin  the  happy  home  that  Dolly 
had  made  it.  His  experiences  of  life  were  not  very  large, 
but  one  lesson  they  had  certainly  taught  him,  —  it  was,  to 
recognize  in  persons  of  condition,  when  well  brought  up,  a 
great  spirit  of  accommodation.  In  the  varied  company 
of  Sir  Arthur's  house  he  had  constantly  found  that  no  one 
submitted  with  a  better  grace  to  accidental  "hardships  than 
he  whose  station  had  usually  elevated  him  above  the  risks 
of  their  occurrence,  and  that  in  the  chance  roughings  of  a 
sportsman's  life  it  was  the  born  gentleman  —  Sybarite  it 
might  be  at  times  —  whose  temper  best  sustained  him  in  all 
difficulties,  and  whose  gallant  spirit  bore  him  most  trium- 
phantly over  the  crosses  and  cares  that  beset  him.  It  might 
not  be  a  ver}^  logical  induction  that  led  him  to  apply  this 
reasoning  to  Alice,  but  he  did  so,  and  in  so  doing  he  felt 
very  little  how  the  time  went  over,  till  he  found  himself  on 
the  terrace  at  L^^le  Abbey. 

Led  on  by  old  habit,  he  passed  in  without  ringing  the 
bell,  and  was  already  on  his  way  to  the  drawing-room  when 
he  met  Hailes  the  butler. 


ON  LIFE  AND  THE  WORLD  IN  GENERAL.     335 

In  the  midst  of  a  shower  of  rejoicings  at  seeing  him  again, 
• —  for  he  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  household,  —  Ilailes 
hastened  to  show  him  into  the  dining-room,  where,  dinner 
over,  Sir  Arthur  sat  in  an  easy-chair  at  the  fire,  alone,  and 
sound  asleep.  Roused  by  the  noise  of  the  opening  door, 
Sir  Arthur  started  and  looked  up;  nor  was  he,  indeed, 
very  full  awake  while  Tony  blundered  out  his  excuses  for 
disturbing  him. 

"My  dear  Tony,  not  a  word  of  this.  It  is  a  real  pleasure 
to  see  you.  I  was  taking  a  nap,  just  because  I  had  nothing 
better  to  do.  We  are  all  alone  here  now,  and  the  place  feels 
strange  enough  in  the  solitude.  Mark  gone  —  the  girls  away 
—  and  no  one  left  but  Lady  Lyle  and  myself.  There's 
your  old  friend;  that's  some  of  the  '32  claret;  fill  your 
glass,  and  tell  me  that  you  are  come  to  pass  some  days 
with  us." 

"I  wish  I  was,  sir;  but  I  have  come  to  say  good-bye.  I  'm 
off  to-morrow  for  London." 

"For  London!     What!  another  freak,  Tony  ?  " 

"Scarcely  a  freak,  sir,"  said  he,  smiling.  '^They've 
telegraphed  to  me  to  come  up  and  report  myself  for  service 
at  the  Foreign  Office." 

"As  a  Minister,  eh'" 

"  No,  sir;  a  Messenger." 

"  An  excellent  thing,  too;  a  capital  thing.  A  man  must 
begin  somewhere,  you  know.  Every  one  is  not  as  lucky 
as  I  was,  to  start  with  close  on  twelve  hundred  a  year.  I 
was  n't  twenty  when  I  landed  at  Calcutta,  Tony,  —  a  mere 
boy !  "  Here  the  baronet  filled  his  glass,  and  drank  it  off 
with  a  solemnity  that  seemed  as  if  it  were  a  silent  toast 
to  his  own  health,  for  in  his  own  estimation  he  merited  that 
honor,  very  few  men  having  done  more  for  themselves  than 
he  had ;  not  that  he  had  not  been  over-grateful,  however, 
to  the  fortune  of  his  early  days  in  this  boastful  acknowl- 
edgment, since  it  was  in  the  humble  capacity  of  an  admiral's 
secretary  —  they  called  them  clerks  in  those  daj^s  —  he  had 
first  found  himself  in  the  Indian  Ocean,  a  mere  accident 
leading  to  his  appointment  on  shore  and  all  his  subsequent 
good  fortune.  "Yes,  Tony,"  continued  he,  "I  started  at 
what  one  calls  a  high  rung  of  the  ladder.     It  was  then  I' 


336  TONY  BUTLER. 

first  saw  your  father;  he  was  about  the  same  age  as  you 
are  now.  He  was  on  Lord  Dollington's  staff.  Dear  me, 
dear  me !  it  seems  like  yesterday ;  "  and  he  closed  his  eyes, 
and  seemed  lost  in  revery ;  but  if  he  really  felt  like  yester- 
day, he  would  have  remembered  how  insolently  the  superb 
aide-de-camp  treated  the  meek  civilian  of  the  period,  and 
how  immeasurably  above  Mr.  Lyle  of  those  days  stood  the 
haughty  Captain  Butler  of  the  Governor-General's  staff. 

"The  soldiers  used  to  fancy  they  had  the  best  of  it, 
Tony ;  but,  I  take  it,  we  civilians  won  the  race  at  last ;  " 
and  his  eyes  ranged  over  the  vast  room,  with  the  walls 
covered  by  pictures,  and  the  sideboard  loaded  with  massive 
plate,  while  the  array  of  decanters  on  the  small  spider-table 
beside  him  suggested  largely  of  good  living. 

"A  very  old  friend  of  mine,  Jos.  Hughes  —  he  was  salt 
assessor  at  Bussorabad  —  once  remarked  to  me,  '  Lyle,'  said 
he,  '  a  man  must  make  his  choice  in  life,  whether  he  pre- 
fers a  brilliant  start  or  a  good  finish,  for  he  cannot  have 
both.'  Take  your  pleasure  when  young,  and  3'ou  must  con- 
sent to  work  when  old  ;  but  if  you  set  out  vigoroush',  deter- 
mined to  labor  hard  in  early  life,  when  you  come  to  my 
age,  Tony,  you  may  be  able  to  en jo}^  your  rest "  —  and  here 
he  waved  his  hand  round,  as  though  to  show  the  room 
in  which  they  sat,  —  "to  enjoy  3'our  rest,  not  without 
dignity." 

Tony  was  an  attentive  listener,  and  Sir  Arthur  was  flat- 
tered, and  went  on.  "I  am  sincerely  glad  to  have  the 
opportunity  of  these  few  moments  with  you.  I  am  an  old 
pilot,  so  to  say,  on  the  sea  you  are  about  to  venture  upon ; 
and  really,  the  great  difficulty  j^oung  fellows  have  in  life 
is,  that  the  men  who  know  the  whole  thing  from  end  to 
end  will  not  be  honest  in  giving  their  experiences.  There 
is  a  certain  '  snobbery '  —  I  have  no  other  word  for  it  — 
that  prevents  their  confessing  to  small  beginnings.  They 
don't  like  telling  how  humble  they  were  at  the  start;  and 
what  is  the  consequence?  The  value  of  the  whole  lesson 
is  lost!  Now,  I  have  no  such  scruples,  Tony.  Good  fam- 
ily connections  and  relatives  of  influence  I  had  ;  I  cannot 
deny  it.  I  suppose  there  are  scores  of  men  would  have 
coolly  sat  down  and  said  to  their  right  honorable  cousin 


ON  LIFE  AND  THE   WORLD  IN  GENERAL.  337 

or  their  noble  uncle,  '  Help  me  to  this,  —  get  me  that ; '  but 
such  was  not  my  mode  of  procedure.  No,  sir ;  I  resolved 
to  be  my  own  patron,  and  1  went  to  India." 

When  Sir  Arthur  said  this,  he  looked  as  though  his  words 
were:  "I  volunteered  to  lead  the  assault.  It  was  I  that 
was  first  up  the  breach."  "But,  after  all,  Tony,  I  can't 
get  the  boys  to  believe  this."  Now  these  boys  were  his 
three  sons,  two  of  them  middle-aged,  white-headed,  liverless 
men  in  Upper  India,  and  the  third  that  gay  dragoon  with 
whom  we  have  had  some  slight  acquaintance. 

*'  I  have  always  said  to  the  boys,  '  Don't  lie  down  on 
your  high  relations.' "  Had  he  added  that  they  would  have 
found  them  a  most  uncomfortable  bed,  he  would  not  have 
been  beyond  the  truth.  "  '  Do  as  I  did,  and  see  how  gladly, 
ay,  and  how  proudly,  they  will  recognize  you.'  I  say  the 
same  to  you,  Tony.  You  have,  I  am  told,  some  family  con- 
nections that  might  be  turned  to  account?" 

"None,  sir;    not  one,"  broke  in  Tony,  boldly. 

"Well,  there  is  that  Sir  Omerod  Butler.  I  don't  sus- 
pect he  is  a  man  of  much  actual  influence.  He  is,  I  take 
it,  a  bygone." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  him;  nor  do  I  want  to  know  any- 
thing of  him,"  said  Tony,  pushing  his  glass  from  him,  and 
looking  as  though  the  conversation  were  one  he  would  gladly 
change  for  any  other  topic ;  but  it  was  not  so  easy  to  tear 
Sir  Arthur  from  such  a  theme,  and   he  went  on. 

"  It  would  not  do  for  you,  perhaps,  to  make  any  advances 
towards  him." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  myself!  "  said  Tony,  half  choking 
with  angry  impatience. 

"I  repeat,  it  would  not  do  for  you  to  take  this  step; 
but  if  you  had  a  friend  —  a  man  of  rank  and  station  — 
one  whose  position  your  uncle  could  not  but  acknowledge 
as  at  least  the  equal  of  his  own  — " 

"He  could  be  no  friend  of  mine  w^ho  should  open  any 
negotiations  on  my  part  with  a  relation  who  has  treated  my 
mother  so  uncourteously,  sir." 

"  I  think  you  are  under  a  mistake,  Tony.  Mrs.  Butler 
told  me  that  it  was  rather  her  own  fault  tlian  Sir  Omerod's 
that  some  sort  of  reconciliation  was  not  effected.     Indeed, 

22 


338  TONY  BUTLER. 

she  once  showed  me  a  letter  from  your  uncle  when  she  was 
in  trouble  about  those  Canadian  bonds." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  it  all,"  said  Tony,  rising,  as  if  all 
his  patience  was  at  last  exhausted.  "  I  have  read  the  letter 
you  speak  of ;  he  offered  to  lend  her  five  or  six  hundred 
pounds,  or  to  give  it,  I  forget  which ;  and  he  was  to  take 
me  "  —  here  he  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter  that  was  almost 
hysterical  in  its  harsh  mockery  —  "to  take  ine,  I  don't 
know  what  he  was  to  do  with  me,  for  I  believe  he  has 
turned  Papist,  Jesuit,  or  what  not ;  perhaps  1  was  to  have 
been  made  a  priest  or  a  friar ;  at  all  events,  I  w^as  to  have 
been  brought  up  dependent  on  his  bounty,  —  a  bad  scheme 
for  each  of  us.  He  would  not  have  been  very  proud  of  his 
protege ;  and,  if  I  know  myself,  I  don't  think  I  'd  have  been 
very  grateful  to  my  protector.  My  dear  mother,  however, 
had  too  much  of  the  mother  in  her  to  listen  to  it,  and  she 
told  him  so,  perhaps  too  plainly  for  his  refined  notions  in 
matters  of  phraseology ;  for  he  trumped  and  wrote  no  more 
to  us." 

"  AYhich  is  exactly  the  reason  wh}^  a  friend,  speaking  from 
the  eminence  which  a  certain  station  confers,  might  be  able 
to  place  matters  on  a  better  and  more  profitable  footing." 

*'  Not  with  7ny  consent,  sir,  depend  upon  it,"  said  Tony, 
fiercely. 

"  My  dear  Tony,  there  is  a  vulgar  adage  about  the 
impolicy  of  quarrelling  with  one's  bread-and-butter;  but 
how  far  more  reprehensible  would  it  be  to  quarrel  with  the 
face  of  the  man  who  cuts  it?  " 

It  is  just  possible  that  Sir  Arthur  was  as  much  mystified 
by  his  own  illustration  as  was  Tony,  for  each  continued  for 
some  minutes  to  look  at  the  other  in  a  state  of  hopeless 
bewilderment.  The  thought  of  one  mN'ster}^  however,  re- 
called another,  and  Tony  remembered  his  mother's  note. 

^'  By  the  way,  sir,  I  have  a  letter  here  for  you  from  my 
mother,"  said  he,  producing  it. 

Sir  Arthur  put  on  his  spectacles  leisurely,  and  began  to 
peruse  it.  It  seemed  very  brief,  for  in  an  instant  he  had 
returned  it  to  his  pocket. 

''I  conclude  you  know  nothing  of  the  contents  of  this?" 
said  he,  quietly. 


ON  LITE  AND  THE   WORLD  IN  GENERAL.  339 

'*  XothiDg  whatever." 

"It  is  of  no  consequence.  You  may  simply  tell  Mrs. 
Butler  from  me  that  I  will  call  on  her  by  an  early  day ;  and 
now,  won't  you  come  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  ?  Lady  Lyle 
will  expect  to  see  you  in  the  drawing-room." 

Tony  would  have  refused,  if  he  knew  how ;  even  in  his 
old  days  he  had  been  less  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  Ladj' 
Lyle  than  any  others  of  the  family,  and  she  had  at  times 
a  sort  of  dignified  stateliness  in  her  manner  that  checked 
him  greatly. 

"  Here's  Tony  Butler  come  to  take  a  cup  of  tea  with  you, 
and  say  good-bye,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  as  he  led  him  into  the 
drawing-room. 

"Oh,  indeed!  I  am  too  happy  to  see  him,"  said  she, 
laying  down  her  book ;  while,  with  a  very  chilly  smile,  she 
added,  "and  where  is  Mr.  Butler  bound  for  this  time?" 
And  simple  as  the  words  were,  she  contrived  to  impart  to 
them  a  meaning  as  though  she  had  said,  "  AVhat  new  scheme 
or  project  has  he  now?  What  wild-goose  chase  is  he  at 
present  engaged  in?" 

Sir  Arthur  came  quickly  to  the  rescue,  as  he  said,  "  He  's 
going  to  take  up  an  appointment  under  the  Crown  ;  and, 
like  a  good  and  prudent  lad,  to  earn  his  bread,  and  do  some- 
thing towards  his  mother's  comfort." 

"  I  think  you  never  take  sugar,"  said  she,  smiling  faintly; 
"  and  for  a  while  you  made  a  convert  of  Alice." 

Was  there  ever  a  more  common-place  remark?  and  yet  it 
sent  the  blood  to  poor  Tony's  face  and  temples,  and  over- 
whelmed him  with  confusion.  "  You  know  that  the  girls 
are  both  away  ?  " 

'•  It's  a  capital  thing  they  've  given  him,"  said  Sir  Arthur, 
trying  to  extract  from  his  wife  even  the  semblance  of  an 
interest  in  the  young  fellow's  career. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  she. 

"How  do  they  call  you?  Are  you  a  Queen's  messenger, 
or  a  Queen's  courier,  or  a  Foreign  Office  messenger?  " 

"I'm  not  quite  sure.  I  believe  we  are  messengers,  but 
whose  I  don't  remember." 

"They  have  the  charge  of  all  the  despatches  to  the 
various  embassies  and  legations  in  every  part  of  the  world," 
said  Sir  Arthur,  pompously.  , 


340  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  How  addling  it  must  be,  — how  confusing !  " 

"Why  so?  You  don't  imagine  that  they  have  to  retain 
them,  and  report  them  orally,  do  you?" 

^'  Well,  I'm  afraid  I  did,"  said  she,  with  a  little  simper 
that  seemed  to  say,  What  did  it  signify  either  way? 

"They'd  have  made  a  most  unlucky  selection  in  my 
case,"  said  Tony,  laughing,  "  if  such  had  been  the  duty." 

"  Do  you  think  you  shall  like  it?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  shall.  There  is  so  very  little  I  'm  really  fit 
for,  that  I  look  on  this  appointment  as  a  piece  of  rare  luck." 

"  I  fancy  I  'd  rather  have  gone  into  the  army,  —  a  cavalry 
regiment,  for  instance." 

"The  most  wasteful  and  extravagant  career  a  young 
fellow  could  select,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  smarting  under  some 
recent  and  not  over-pleasant  experiences. 

"  The  uniform  is  so  becoming  too,"  said  she,  languidly. 

"It  is  far  and  away  beyond  any  pretension  of  my  humble 
fortune.  Madam,"  said  Tony,  proudly,  for  there  was  an  im- 
pertinent carelessness  in  her  manner  that  stung  him  to  the 
quick. 

"Ah,  yes,"  sighed  she;  "and  the  army,  too,  is  not  the 
profession  for  one  who  wants  to  marry." 

Tony  again  felt  his  cheek  on  fire,  but  he  did  not  utter  a 
word  as  she  went  on,  "  And  report  says  something  like  this 
of  you,  Mr.  Butler." 

"  What,  Tony  !  how  is  this?  I  never  heard  of  it  before," 
cried  Sir  Arthur. 

"  Nor  I,  sir." 

"Come,  come.  It  is  very  indiscreet  of  me,  I  know,"  said 
Lady  Lyle ;  "  but  as  we  are  in  such  a  secret  committee  here 
at  this  moment,  I  fancied  I  might  venture  to  offer  my  con- 
gratulations." 

"Congratulations!  on  what  would  be  the  lad's  ruin! 
Why,  it  would  be  downright  insanity.  I  trust  there  is  not  a 
word  of  truth  in  it." 

"  I  repeat,  sir,  that  I  hear  it  all  for  the  first  time." 

"  I  conclude,  then,  I  must  have  been  misinformed." 

"  Might  I  be  bold  enough  to  ask  from  what  quarter  the 
rumor  reached  you,  or  with  whom  they  mated  me? " 

"  Oh,  as  to  your  choice,  I  hear  she  is  a  very  nice  girl 


ON  LIFE   AND   THE   WORLD   IN  GENERAL.  341 

indeed,  admirably  brought  up  and  well  educated,  —  every- 
thing but  rich;  but  of  course  that  fact  was  well  known  to 
you.     Men  in  her  father's  position  are  seldom  affluent." 

'^  And  who  could  possibly  have  taken  the  trouble  to  weave 
all  this  romance  about  me?"  said  Tony,  flushing  not  the  less 
deeply  that  he  suspected  it  was  Dolly  Stewart  who  was  indi- 
cated by  the  description. 

"One  of  the  girls,  I  forget  which,  told  me.  Where  she 
learned  it,  I  forget,  if  I  ever  knew;  but  I  remember  that 
the  story  had  a  sort  of  completeness  about  it  that  looked  like 
truth."  Was  it  accident  or  intention  that  made  Lady  Lyle 
fix  her  eyes  steadily  on  Tony  as  she  spoke?  As  she  did  so, 
his  color,  at  first  crimson,  gave  way  to  an  ashy  paleness, 
and  he  seemed  like  one  about  to  faint.  "After  all,"  said 
she,  "perhaps  it  was  a  mere  flu'tation  that  people  magnified 
into  marriage." 

"  It  was  not  even  that,"  gasped  he  out,  hoarsely.  "  I  am 
overstaying  my  time,  and  my  mother  will  be  waiting  tea  for 
me,"  muttered  he;  and  with  some  scarcely  intelligible  at- 
tempts at  begging  to  be  remembered  to  Alice  and  Bella,  he 
took  his  leave,  and  hurried  away. 

While  Tony,  with  a  heart  almost  bursting  with  agony, 
wended  his  way  towards  home.  Lady  Lyle  resumed  her 
novel,  and  Sir  Arthur  took  up  the  "Times."  After  about 
half  an  hour's  reading  he  laid  down  the  paper,  and  said,  "  I 
hope  there  is  no  truth  in  that  story  about  young  Butler." 

"  Not  a  word  of  it,"  said  she,  dr^dy. 

"  Not  a  word  of  it !  but  I  thought  you  believed  it." 

'*  Nothing  of  the  kind.  It  was  a  lesson  the  young  gentle- 
man has  long  needed,  and  I  was  only  waiting  for  a  good 
opportunity  to  give  it." 

"I  don't  understand  you.  What  do  you  mean  by  a 
lesson?" 

"  I  have  very  long  suspected  that  it  was  a  great  piece  of 
imprudence  on  our  part  to  encourage  the  intimacy  of  this 
young  man  here,  and  to  give  him  that  position  of  familiarity 
which  he  obtained  amongst  us ;  but  I  trusted  implicitly  to 
the  immeasurable  distance  that  separated  him  from  our  girls, 
to  secure  us  against  danger.  That  clever  man  of  the  world, 
Mr.  Maitland,  however,  showed  me  I  was  wrong.     He  was 


842  TONY  BUTLER. 

not  a  week  here  till  he  saw  enough  to  induce  him  to  give  me 
a  warning ;  and  though  at  first  he  thought  it  was  Bella's 
favor  he  aspired  to,  he  afterwards  perceived  it  was  to  Alice 
he  du-ected  his  attentions." 

''I  can't  believe  this  possible.  Tony  would  never  dare 
such  a  piece  of  presumption." 

"You  forget  two  things,  Sir  Arthur.  This  young  fellow 
fancies  that  his  good  birth  makes  him  the  equal  of  any  one ; 
and,  secondly,  Alice,  in  her  sense  of  independence,  is 
exactly  the  girl  to  do  a  folly,  and  imagine  it  to  be  heroic ; 
so  Maitland  himself  said  to  me,  and  it  was  perfectly  mirac- 
ulous how  w^ell  he  read  her  whole  nature.  And  indeed  it 
was  he  who  suggested  to  me  to  charge  Tony  Butler  with 
being  engaged  to  the  minister's  daughter,  and  told  me — and 
as  I  saw,  with  truth  —  how  thoroughly  it  would  test  his 
suspicions  about  him.  I  thought  he  was  going  to  faint, — 
he  really  swayed  back  and  forwards  when  I  said  that  it  was 
one  of  the  girls  from  whom  I  had  the  story." 

"  If  I  could  only  believe  this,  he  should  never  cross  the 
threshold  again.      Such  insolence  is,  however,  incredible." 

"  That's  a  man's  way  of  regarding  it;  and  however  you 
sneer  at  our  credulity,  it  enables  us  to  see  scores  of  things 
that  your  obstinacy  is  blind  to.  I  am  sincerely  glad  he  is 
going  away." 

"So  am  I  —  now;  and  I  trust,  in  my  heart,  we  havo 
seen  the  last  of  him." 

"  How  tired  you  look,  my  poor  Tony !  "  said  his  mother, 
as  he  entered  the  cottage  and  threw  himself  heavily  and 
wearily  into  a  chair. 

'■'lam  tired,  mother, — very  tired  and  jaded." 

"  I  wondered  what  kept  you  so  long,  Tony  ;  for  I  had  time 
to  pack  3'our  trunk,  and  to  put  awa}^  all  your  things ;  and 
when  it  was  done  and  finished,  to  sit  down  and  sorrow  over 
your  going  away.  Oh,  Tony  dear,  are  n't  we  ungrateful 
creatures,  when  we  rise  up  in  rebellion  against  the  very 
mercies  that  are  vouchsafed  us,  and  say.  Why  was  my 
prayer  granted  me?  I  am  sure  it  was  many  and  many  a 
night,  as  I  knelt  down,  I  begged  the  Lord  would  send  you 
some  calling  or  other,  that  you  might  find  means  of  an 
honest  living ;    and  a  line  of   life*  that    would  n't   disgrace 


ON  LIFE  AND  THE   WORLD  IN  GENERAL.  343 

the  stock  you  came  from ;  and  now  that  He  has  graciously 
heard  me,  here  1  am  repining  and  comphiining  just  as  if 
it  was  n't  my  own  supplication  that  was  listened  to." 

Perhaps  Tony  was  not  in  a  humor  to  discuss  a  nice 
question  of  ethical  meaning,  for  he  abruptly  said,  "  Sir 
Arthur  Lyle  read  3'our  note  over,  and  said  he  'd  call  one 
of  these  days  and  see  you.  I  suppose  he  meant  with  the 
answer." 

"  There  was  no  answer,  Tony  ;  the  matter  was  just  this,  — 
I  wanted  a  trifle  of  an  advance  from  the  bank,  just  to  give 
you  a  little  money  when  you  have  to  go  away ;  and  Tom 
M*  El  wain,  the  new  manager,  not  knowing  me  perhaps, 
referred  the  matter  to  Sir  Arthur,  which  was  not  what  I 
wished  or  intended,  and  so  I  wrote  and  said  so.  Perhaps 
I  said  so  a  little  too  curtly,  as  if  I  was  too  proud,  or  the 
like,  to  accept  a  favor  at  Sir  Arthur's  hands ;  for  he  wrote 
me  a  very  beautiful  letter  —  it  went  home  to  my  heart  — 
about  his  knowing  your  father  long  ago,  when  they  were 
both  lads,  and  had  the  wide  world  before  them ;  and  allud- 
ing very  touchingly  to  the  Lord's  bounties  to  himself,  — 
blessing  him  with  a  full  garner." 

"  I  hope  you  accepted  nothing  from  him,"  broke  in  Tony, 
roughly. 

*'No,  Tony;  for  it  happened  that  James  Hewson,  the 
apothecary,  had  a  hundred  pounds  that  he  wanted  to  lay 
out  on  a  safe  mortgage,  and  so  I  took  it,  at  six  per  cent, 
and  gave  him  over  the  deeds  of  the  little  place  here." 

''  For  a  hundred  pounds  !  AYhy,  it 's  worth  twelve  hundred 
at  least,  motlier  !  " 

"  What  a  boy  it  is !  "  said  she,  laughing.  "  I  merely  gave 
him  his  right  to  claim  the  one  hundred  that  he  advanced, 
Tony  dear ;  and  my  note  to  Sir  Arthur  was  to  ask  him  to 
have  the  bond,  or  whatever  it  is  called,  rightly  drawn  up 
and  witnessed,  and  at  the  same  time  to  thank  him  heartily 
for  his  own  kind  readiness  to  serve  me." 

''  I  hate  a  mortgage,  mother.  I  don't  feel  as  if  the  place 
was  our  own  any  longer." 

"  Your  father's  own  words,  eighteen  years  ago,  when  he 
drew  all  the  money  he  had  out  of  the  agent's  hands,  and  paid 
off  the  debt  on  this  little  spot  here.     '  Nelly,'  said  he,  '  I  can 


344  TONY  BUTLER. 

look  out  of  the  window  now,  and  not  be  afraid  of  seeing  a 
man  coming  up  the  road  to  ask  for  his  interest.' " 

''It's  the  very  first  thing  I  '11  try  to  do,  is  to  pay  off  that 
debt,  mother.  Who  knows  but  I  may  be  able  before  the 
year  is  over !  But  I  am  glad  you  did  n't  take  it  from  Sir 
Arthur." 

"You're  as  proud  as  your  father,  Tony,"  said  she,  with 
her  eyes  full  of  tears ;  ' '  take  care  that  you  're  as  good  as 
he  was  too." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

A   CORNER   IN    DOWNING    STREET. 

When  Tony  Butler  found  himself  inside  of  the  swinging 
glass-door  at  Downing  Street,. and  in  presence  of  the  august 
Mr.  Willis,  the  porter,  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  interval  since 
he  had  last  stood  in  the  same  place  had  been  a  dream.  The 
head-porter  looked  up  from  his  "Times,"  and  with  a  sever- 
ity that  showed  he  had  neither  forgotten  nor  forgiven,  said, 
"Messengers'  room  —  first  pair  —  corridor  —  third  door  on 
the  left."  There  was  an  unmistakable  dignity  in  the  manner 
of  the  speaker  which  served  to  show  Tony  not  merely  that 
his  former  offence  remained  unpardoned,  but  that  his  en- 
trance into  public  life  had  not  awed  or  impressed  in  any 
way  the  stern  official. 

Tony  passed  on,  mounted  the  stairs,  and  sauntered  along 
a  very  ill-kept  corridor,  not  fully  certain  whether  it  was  the 
third,  fourth,  or  fifth  door  he  was  in  search  of,  or  on  what 
hand.  After  about  half  an  hour  passed  in  the  hope  of  see- 
ing one  to  direct  him,  he  made  bold  to  knock  gently  at  a 
door.  To  his  repeated  summons  no  answer  was  returned, 
and  he  tried  another,  when  a  shrill  voice  cried,  "Come  in." 
He  entered,  and  saw  a  slight,  sickly-looking  youth,  very 
elaborately  dressed,  seated  at  a  table,  writing.  The  room 
was  a  large  one,  very  dirty,  ill-furnished,  and  disorderly. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  the  j'oung  gentleman,  without 
lifting  his  head  or  his  eyes  from  the  desk. 

"Could  you  tell  me,"  said  Tony,  courteously,  "where  I 
ought  to  go?  I  'm  Butler,  an  extra  messenger,  and  I  have 
been  summoned  to  attend  and  report  here  this  morning." 

"All  right;  we  want  you,"  said  the  other,  still  writing; 
"wait  an  instant."  So  saying,  he  wrote  on  for  several  min- 
utes at  a  rapid  pace,  muttering  the  words  as  his  pen  traced 


346  TONY  BUTLER. 

them;  at  last  he  finished,  and,  descending  from  his  high 
seat,  passed  across  the  room,  opened  a  door,  which  led  into 
another  room,  and  called  out,  — 

"The  messenger  come,  sir!  " 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  shouted  a  very  harsh  voice. 

"First  for  Madrid,  sir,"  said  the  youth,  examining  a 
slip  of  paper  he  had  just  taken  from  his  pocket. 

"His  name?"  shouted  out  the  other  again. 

"Poynder,  sir." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  suggested  Tony,  mildly.  "I'm 
Butler,  not  Poynder." 


Who's    talking    out    there, — what's    that    uproar 


screamed  the  voice,  very  angrily. 

"He  says  he's  not  for  Madrid,  sir.  It's  a  mistake," 
cried  the  youth. 

"No;  you  misunderstand  me,"  whispered  Tony.  "I 
only  said  I  was  not  Poynder." 

"He  says  he  's  in  Poynder's  place." 

"I'll  stop  this  system  of  substitutes!"  cried  the  voice. 
"Send  him  in  here." 

"Go  in  there,"  said  the  youth,  with  a  gesture  of  his 
thumb,  and  his  face  at  the  same  time  wore  an  expression 
which  said  as  plain  as  any  words  could  have  spoken,  "And 
you  '11  see  how  you  like  it." 

As  Tony  entered,  he  found  himself  standing  face  to  face 
to  the  awful  official,  Mr.  Brand,  the  same  who  had  reported 
to  the  Minister  his  intended  assault  upon  Willis,  the  porter. 
"Aw!  what's  all  this  about?"  said  Mr.  Brand,  pompously. 
"You  are  Mr.  —Mr.—" 

"Mr.  Butler,"  said  Tony,  quietly,  but  with  an  air  of 
determination. 

"And  instead  of  reporting  yourself,  you  come  here  to  say 
that  you  have  exchanged  with  Poynder." 

"I  never  heard  of  Poynder  till  three  minutes  ago." 

"You  want,  however,  to  take  his  journey,  sir.  Y^ou  call 
yourself  first  for  Madrid?" 

"I  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  have  come  here  because  I 
got  a  telegram  two  days  ago.  I  know  nothing  of  Poynder, 
and  just  as  little  about  Madrid." 

"Oh  —  aw!  you're  Butler!     I  remember  all  about  you 


A  CORNER  IN  DOWNING  STREET.  347 

now;  there  is  such  a  swarm  of  extras  appointed,  that  it 's 
impossible  to  remember  names  or  faces.  You  're  the  young 
gentleman  who  —  who  —  yes,  yes,  I  remember  it  all;  but 
have  you  passed  the  civil-service  examiners?" 

"No;  I  was  preparing  for  the  examination  when  I  re- 
ceived that  message,  and  came  off  at  once." 

"Well,  you  '11  present  yourself  at  Burlington  House.  Mr. 
Blount  will  make  out  the  order  for  you;  you  can  go  up  the 
latter  end  of  this  week,  and  we  shall  want  yo\i  immediately.'* 

''But  lam  not  ready.  I  was  reading  for  this  examination 
when  your  telegram  came,  and  I  set  off  at  the  instant." 

"Blount,  Mr.  Blount!"  screamed  out  the  other,  angrily; 
and  as  the  affrighted  youth  presented  himself,  all  pale  and 
trembling,  he  went  on^  "What's  the  meaning  of  this,  sir? 
You  first  attempt  to  pass  this  person  off  for  Poynder :  and 
when  that  scheme  fails,  you  endeavor  to  slip  him  into  the 
service  without  warrant  or  qualification.  He  tells  me  him- 
self he  knows  nothing." 

"Very  little,  certainly,  but  I  don't  remember  telling  you 
so,"  said  Tony. 

"And  do  you  imagine,  sir,  that  a  bravado  about  your 
ignorance  is  the  sure  road  to  advancement?  I  can  tell  you, 
young  gentleman,  that  the  days  of  mighty  patronage  are 
gone  by;  the  public  require  to  be  served  with  competent 
officials.  We  are  not  in  the  era  of  Castlereaghs  and  Van- 
sittarts.  If  you  can  satisfy  the  Commissioners,  you  may 
come  back  here ;  if  you  cannot,  you  may  go  back  to  —  to 
whatever  life  you  were  leading  before,  and  were  probably 
most  fit  for.  As  for  you,  Mr.  Blount,  I  told  you  before 
that  on  the  first  occasion  of  your  attempting  to  exercise 
here  that  talent  for  intrigue  on  which  you  pride  yourself, 
and  of  which  Mr.  Vance  told  me  you  were  a  proficient,  I 
should  report  you.  I  now  say,  sir,  —  and  bear  in  mind  I 
say  so  openly,  and  to  yourself,  and  in  presence  of  your  friend 
here,  —  I  shall  do  so  this  day." 

"May  I  explain,  sir?" 

"You  may  not,  sir,  —  withdraw!  "  The  wave  of  the  hand 
that  accompanied  this  order  evidently  included  Tony;  but 
he  held  his  ground  undismayed,  while  the  other  fell  back, 
overwhelmed  with  shame  and  confusion. 


348  TONY  BUTLER. 

Not  deigning  to  be  aware  of  Tony's  continued  presence  in 
the  room,  Mr.  Brand  again  addressed  himself  to  his  writing 
materials,  when  a  green-cloth  door  at  the  back  of  the  room 
opened,  and  Mr.  Vance  entered,  and,  advancing  to  where  the 
other  sat,  leaned  over  his  chair  and  whispered  some  words 
in  his  ear.  "You  '11  find  I  'm  right,"  muttered  he,  as  he 
finished. 

"And  where  's  the  Office  to  go  to?  "  burst  out  the  other, 
in  a  tone  of  ill-repressed  passion;  "will  you  just  tell  me 
that?     Where  's  the  Ofiice  to  go  —  if  this  continues?  " 

"That's  neither  your  affair  nor  mine,"  whispered  Vance. 
"These  sort  of  things  were  done  before  we  were  born,  and 
they  will  be  done  after  we  're  in  our  graves !  " 

"And  is  he  to  walk  in  here,  and  say,  'I'm  first  for  service ; 
I  don't  care  whether  you  like  it  or  not '  ?  " 

"He's  listening  to  you  all  this  while,  —  are  you  aware 
of  that?"  whispered  Vance;  on  which  the  other  grew  very 
red  in  the  face,  took  off  his  spectacles,  wiped  and  replaced 
them,  and  then,  addressing  Ton}^,  said,  "Go  away,  sir,  — 
leave  the  Office." 

"Mr.  Brand  means  that  you  need  not  wait,"  said  Vance, 
approaching  Tony.  "All  you  have  to  do  is  to  leave  ^^our 
town  address  here,  in  the  outer  office,  and  come  up  once  or 
twice  a  day." 

"And  as  to  this  examination,"  said  Tony,  stoutly,  "it 's 
better  I  should  say  once  for  all  —  " 

"It 's  better  you  should  just  say  nothing  at  all,"  said  the 
other,  good-humoredly,  as  he  slipped  his  arm  inside  of 
Tony's  and  led  him  away.  "Y^ou  see,"  whispered  he,  "my 
friend  Air.  Brand  is  hasty." 

"I  should  think  he  is  hasty  ^  "  growled  out  Tony. 

"But  he  is  a  warm-hearted  —  a  truly  warm-hearted 
man  —  " 

"Warm  enough  he  seems." 

"When  you  know  him  better  —  " 

"I  don't  want  to  know  him  better!  "  burst  in  Tony.  "I 
got  into  a  scrape  already  with  just  such  another:  he  was 
collector  for  the  port  of  Derry,  and  I  threw  him  out  of  the 
window,  and  all  the  blame  was  laid  upon  me !  " 

"Well,  that  certainly  was  hard,"  said  Vance,  with  a  droll 
twinkle  of  his  eye,  — "I  call  that  very  hard." 


A  CORNER  IN  DOWNING   STREET.  349 

"So  do  I,  after  the  language  be  used  to  me,  saying  all 
the  while,  '  I  'm  no  duellist,  —  I  'm  not  for  a  saw-pit,  with 
coffee  and  pistols  for  two,'  —  and  all  that  vulgar  slang 
about  murder  and  such-like." 

"And  was  he  much  hurt?  " 

*'No;  not  much.  It  was  only  his  collar-bone  and  one 
rib,  I  think,  —  I  forget  now,  —  for  I  had  to  go  over  to 
Skye,  and  stay  there  a  good  part  of  the  summer." 

"Mr.  Blount,  take  down  this  gentleman's  address,  and 
show  him  where  he  is  to  wait;  and  don't  — "  Here  he 
lowered  his  voice,  so  that  the  remainder  of  his  speech  was 
inaudible  to  Tony. 

"Not  if  I  can  help  it,  sir,"  replied  Blount;  "but  if  you 
knew  how  hard  it  is !  " 

There  was  something  almost  piteous  in  the  youth's  face 
as  he  spoke ;  and,  indeed,  Vance  seemed  moved  to  a  certain 
degree  of  compassion  as  he  said,  "Well,  well,  do  your  best, 
—  do  your  best,  none  can  do  more." 

"It 's  two  o'clock.  I  '11  go  out  and  have  a  cigar  with  you, 
if  you  don't  mind,"  said  Blount  to  Tony.  "We're  quite 
close  to  the  Park  here;  and  a  little  fresh  air  will  do  me 
good." 

"Come  along,"  said  Tony,  who,  out  of  compassion,  had 
already  a  sort  of  half-liking  for  the  much-suffering  young 
fellow. 

"I  wish  Skeffy  was  here,"  said  Tony,  as  they  went  down- 
stairs. 

"Do  you  know  Skefif  Damer,  then?  " 

"Know  him!  I  believe  he  's  about  the  fellow  I  like  best 
in  the  world.'* 

"So  do  I,"  cried  the  other,  warmly;  "he  hasn't  his  equal 
living;  he  's  the  best-hearted  and  he's  the  cleverest  fellow 
I  ever  met." 

And  now  they  both  set  to,  as  really  only  young  friends 
ever  do,  to  extol  a  loved  one  with  that  heartiness  that  neither 
knows  limit  nor  measure.  What  a  good  fellow  he  was,  — 
how  much  of  this,  without  the  least  of  that, —  how  unspoiled, 
too,  in  the  midst  of  the  flattery  he  met  with!  "If  you  just 
saw  him  as  I  did  a  few  days  back,"  said  Tonj^  calling  up 
in  memory  Skeffy's  hearty  enjoyment  of  their  humble 
cottage-life. 


850  TONY  BUTLER. 

"If  you  but  knew  how  they  think  of  him  in  the  Office,*' 
said  Blount,  whose  voice  actually  trembled  as  he  touched  on 
the^  holy  of  holies. 

"Confound  the  Office!"  cried  Tony.  "Yes;  don't  look 
shocked.  I  hate  that  dreary  old  house,  and  I  detest  the 
grim  old  fellows  inside  of  it." 

"They  're  severe,  certainly,"  muttered  the  other,  in  a 
deprecatory  tone. 

"Severe  isn't  the  name  for  it.  They  insult  —  they  out- 
rage —  that 's  what  they  do.  I  take  it  that  you  and  the 
other  young  fellows  here  are  gentlemen,  and  I  ask,  Why  do 
you  bear  it,  — why  do  you  put  up  with  it?  Perhaps  you 
like  it,  however." 

"No;  we  don't  like  it,"  said  he,  with  an  honest  sim- 
plicity. 

"Then,  I  ask  again,  why  do  you  stand  it?  " 

"I  believe  we  stand  it  just  because  we  can't  help  it." 

"Can't  help  it!" 

"What  could  we  do?  What  would  you  do?"  asked 
Blount. 

"I  'd  go  straight  at  the  first  man  that  insulted  me,  and 
say,  Retract  that,  or  I  '11  pitch  you  over  the  banisters." 

"That's  all  very  fine  with  you  fellows  who  have  great 
connections  and  powerful  relatives  ready  to  stand  by  you 
and  pull  you  out  of  any  scrape,  and  then,  if  the  worst 
comes,  have  means  enough  to  live  without  work.  That 
will  do  very  well  for  you  and  Skeffy.  Skeffy  will  have  six 
thousand  a  year  one  of  these  days.  No  one  can  keep  him 
out  of  Digby  Damer's  estate;  and  you,  for  aught  I  know, 
may  have  more." 

"I  have  n't  sixpence,  nor  the  expectation  of  sixpence  in 
the  world.  If  I  am  plucked  at  this  examination  I  may  go 
and  enlist,  or  turn  navvy,  or  go  and  sweep  away  the  dead 
leaves  like  that  fellow  yonder." 

"Then  take  my  advice,  and  don't  go  up.'* 

"Go  up  where?" 

"Don't  go  up  to  be  examined;  just  wait  here  in  town; 
don't  show  too  often  at  the  office,  but  come  up  of  a  morning 
about  twelve,  —  I  'm  generally  down  here  by  that  time. 
There  will  be  a  great  press  for  messengers  soon,  for  they 


A  CORNER  IN  DOWNING  STREET.  351 

have  made  a  regulation  about  one  going  only  so  far,  and 
another  taking  up  his  bag  and  handing  it  on  to  a  third;  and 
the  consequence  is,  there  are  three  now  stuck  fast  at  Mar- 
seilles, and  two  at  Belgrade,  and  all  the  Constantinople 
despatches  have  gone  round  by  the  Cape.  Of  course,  as  I 
say,  they  '11  have  to  alter  this,  and  then  we  shall  suddenly 
want  every  fellow  we  can  lay  hands  on ;  so  all  you  have  to 
do  is  just  to  be  ready,  and  I  '11  take  care  to  start  you  at  the 
first  chance." 

"You're  a  good  fellow,"  cried  Tony,  grasping  his  hand; 
*'if  you  only  knew  what  a  bad  swimmer  it  was  you  picked 
out  of  the  water." 

*'0h,  I  can  do  that  much,  at  least,"  said  he,  modestly, 
"though  I'm  not  a  clever  fellow  like  Skeffy;  but  I  must 
go  back,  or  I  shall  '  catch  it. '  Look  in  the  day  after 
to-morrow." 

"And  let  us  dine  together;  that  is,  you  will  dine  with 
me,"  said  Tony.  The  other  acceded  freely,  and  they 
parted. 

That  magnetism  by  which  young  fellows  are  drawn 
instantaneously  towards  each  other,  and  feel  something 
that,  if  not  friendship,  is  closely  akin  to  it,  never  repeats 
itself  in  after  life.  We  grow  more  cautious  about  our  con- 
tracts as  we  grow  older.  I  wonder  do  we  make  better 
bargains  ? 

If  Tony  was  then  somewhat  discouraged  by  his  reception 
at  the  Office,  he  had  the  pleasure  of  thinking  he  was  com- 
pensated in  that  new-found  friend  who  was  so  fond  of  Skeffy, 
and  who  could  talk  awa}"  as  enthusiastically  about  him  as 
himself.  "Now  for  M'Gruder  and  Cannon  Row.  wherever 
that  may  be,"  said  he,  as  he  sauntered  along;  "I  '11  certainly 
go  and  see  him,  if  only  to  shake  hands  with  a  fellow  that 
showed  such  '  good  blood. '  "  There  was  no  one  quality  which 
Tony  could  prize  higher  than  this.  The  man  who  could 
take  a  thrashing  in  good  part,  and  forgive  him  who  gave  it, 
must  be  a  fine  fellow,  he  thought;  and  I  'm  not  disposed  to 
say  he  was  wrong. 

The  address  was  27  Cannon  Street,  City;  and  it  was  a 
long  way  off,  and  the  day  somewhat  spent  when  he  reached 
it. 


352  TONY  BUTLER. 

''Mr.  M'Gruder?"  asked  Tony  of  a  blear-eyed  man,  at  a 
small  faded  desk  in  a  narrow  office. 

"Inside!"  said  he,  with  a  jerk  of  his  thumb j  and  Tony 
pushed  his  way  into  a  small  room,  so  crammed  with  reams 
of  paper  that  there  was  barely  space  to  squeeze  a  passage  to 
a  little  writing-table  next  the  window. 

"Well,  sir,  your  pleasure?"  said  M'Gruder,  as  Tony 
came  forward. 

"You  forget  me,  I  see;  my  name  is  Butler." 

"Eh!  what!  I  ought  not  to  forget  you,"  said  he,  rising, 
and  grasping  the  other's  hand  warmly;  "how  are  you? 
when  did  you  come  up  to  town?  You  see  the  eye  is  all 
right;  it  was  a  bit  swollen  for  more  than  a  fortnight, 
though.  Hech,  sirs!  but  you  have  hard  knuckles  of  your 
own." 

It  was  not  easy  to  apologize  for  the  rough  treatment  he 
had  inflicted,  and  Tony  blundered  and  stammered  in  his 
attempts  to  do  so;  but  M'Gruder  laughed  it  all  off  with  per- 
fect good-humor,  and  said,  "My  wife  will  forgive  you,  too, 
one  of  these  days,  but  not  just  yet;  and  so  we'll  go  and 
have  a  bit  o'  dinner  our  two  selves  down  the  river.  Are 
you  free  to-day  ?  " 

Tony  was  quite  free  and  ready  to  go  anywhere;  and  so 
away  they  went,  at  first  by  river  steamer,  and  then  by  a 
cab,  and  then  across  some  low-lying  fields  to  a  small  soli- 
tary house  close  to  the  Thames,  — "Shads,  chops,  and 
fried-fish  house,"  over  the  door,  and  a  pleasant  odor  of  each 
around  the  premises. 

"Ain't  we  snug  here?  no  tracking  a  man  this  far,"  said 
M'Gruder,  as  he  squeezed  into  a  bench  behind  a  fixed  table 
in  a  very  small  room.  "I  never  heard  of  the  woman  that 
ran  her  husband  to  earth  down  here." 

That  this  same  sense  of  security  had  a  certain  value  in 
M'Gruder' s  estimation  was  evident,  for  he  more  than  once 
recurred  to  the  sentiment  as  they  sat  at  dinner. 

The  tavern  was  a  rare  place  for  "hollands,"  as  M'Gruder 
said;  and  they  sat  over  a  peculiar  brew  for  which  the  house 
was  famed,  but  of  which  Tony's  next  day's  experiences  do 
not  encourage  me  to  give  the  receipt  to  my  readers.  The 
albeit  innocent  of  duty,  might  have  been  better; 


A  CORNER  IN  DOWNING   STREET.  353 

but  all  these,  like  some  other  pleasures  we  know  of,  ouly 
were  asvsociated  with  sorrow  in  the  future.  Indeed,  in  the 
cordial  freedom  that  bound  them  they  thought  very  little 
of  either.  They  had  grown  to  be  very  confidential;  and 
M'Gruder,  after  inquiring  what  Tony  proposed  to  himself 
by  way  of  a  livelihood,  gave  him  a  brief  sketch  of  his  own 
rise  from  very  humble  beginnings  to  a  condition  of  reason- 
ably fair  comfort  and  sufficiency. 

*'l  'm  in  rags,  ye  see,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  he,  "my  father 
was  in  rags  before  me." 

"In  rags!  "  cried  Tony,  looking  at  the  stout  sleek  broad- 
cloth beside  him. 

"1  mean,"  said  the  other,  "I  'm  in  the  rag  trade,  and  we 
supply  the  paper-mills;  and  that's  why  my  brother  Sam 
lives  away  in  Italy.  Italy  is  a  rare  place  for  rags,  — 
I  take  it  they  must  have  no  other  wear,  for  the  supply  is 
inexhaustible,  —  and  so  Sam  lives  in  a  seaport  they  call 
Leghorn;  and  the  reason  I  speak  of  it  to  you  is  that  if  this 
messenger  trade  breaks  down  under  you,  or  that  ye  'd  not 
like  it,  there  's  Sam  there  would  be  ready  and  willing  to  lend 
you  a  hand ;  he  'd  like  a  fellow  o'  your  stamp,  that  would 
go  down  amongst  the  wild  places  on  the  coast,  and  care  little 
about  the  wild  people  that  live  in  them.  Mayhap  this  vrould 
be  beneath  you,  though?"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"I  'm  above  nothing  at  this  moment  except  being  depend- 
ent; I  don't  want  to  burden  my  mother." 

"Dolly  told  us  about  your  fine  relations,,  and  the  high  and 
mighty  folk  ye  belong  to." 

"Ay,  but  they  don't  belong  to  me,  — there  's  the  differ- 
ence," said  Tony,  laughing;  then  added,  in  a  more  thought- 
ful tone,  "1  never  suspected  that  Dolly  spoke  of  me." 

"That  she  did,  and  very  often  too.  Indeed,  I  may  say 
that  she  talked  of  very  little  else.  It  was  Tony  this  and 
Tony  that;  and  Tony  went  here  and  Tony  went  there;  till 
one  day  Sam  could  bear  it  no  longer  —  for  you  see  Snm  was 
mad  in  love  with  her,  and  said  over  and  over  again  that  he 
never  met  her  equal.  Sam  saj^s  to  me,  '  Bob,'  says  he,  '  I 
can't  bear  it  any  more.'  '  What  is  it,'  says  I,  '  that  you 
can't  bear?'  —  for  I  thought  it  was  something  about  the 
drawback  duty  on  mixed  rags  he  was  meaning.     But  no, 


354  TONY  BUTLER. 

sirs ;  it  was  that  he  was  wild  wi'  jealousy,  and  could  n't 
bear  her  to  be  a-talkin'  about  you.  '  I  think, '  says  he,  '  if 
I  could  meet  that  same  Tony,  I  'd  crack  his  neck  for  him.'  " 

"That  was  civil,  certainly!  "  said  Tony,  dryly. 

'"  And  as  I  can't  do  that,  I  '11  just  go  and  ask  her  what 
she  means  by  it  all,  and  if  Tony  's  her  sweetheart? '  " 

"He  did  not  do  that!  "  Tony  cried,  half  angrily. 

"Yes,  but  he  did,  though;  and  what  for  no?  Y"ou 
wouldn't  have  a  man  lose  his  time  pricing  a  bale  of  goods 
when  another  had  bought  them?  If  she  was  in  treaty  with 
you,  Mr.  Butler,  where  was  the  use  of  Sam  spending  the  day 
trying  to  catch  a  word  wi'  her?  So,  to  settle  the  matter  at 
once,  he  overtook  her  one  morning  going  to  early  meeting 
with  the  children,  and  he  had  it  out." 

"Well,  well?"  asked  Tony,  eagerly. 

"Well,  she  told  him  there  never  was  anj'thing  like  love 
between  herself  and  you;  that  you  were  aye  like  brother 
and  sister;  that  you  knew  each  other  from  the  time  you 
could  speak;  that  of  all  the  wide  world  she  did  not  know 
any  one  so  well  as  you;  and  then  she  began  to  cry,  and 
cried  so  bitterly  that  she  had  to  turn  back  home  again,  and 
go  to  her  room  as  if  she  was  taken  ill ;  and  that 's  the  way 
Mrs.  M'Gruder  came  to  know  what  Sam  was  intending. 
She  never  suspected  it  before;  but,  hech  sirs!  if  she  didn't 
open  a  broadside  on  every  one  of  us!  And  the  upshot  was, 
Dolly  was  packed  off  home  to  her  father;  Sam  went  back  to 
Leghorn;  and  there's  Sally  and  Maggie  going  back  in 
everything  ever  they  learned ;  for  it  ain't  every  day  j^ou  pick 
up  a  lass  like  that  for  eighteen  pounds  a  year,  and  her 
washing." 

"But  did  he  ask  her  to  marry  him?  "  cried  Tony. 

"He  did.  He  wrote  a  letter  —  a  ver}^  good  and  sensible 
letter  too  —  to  her  father.  He  told  him  that  he  was  only  a 
junior,  with  a  small  share,  but  that  he  had  saved  enough  to 
furnish  a  house,  and  that  he  hoped,  with  industry  and  care 
and  thrifty  ways,  he  would  be  able  to  maintain  a  wife 
decently  and  well ;  and  he  referred  to  Dr.  Forbes  of  Auchter- 
lonie  for  a  character  of  him ;  and  I  backed  it  myself,  saying, 
in  the  name  of  the  house,  it  was  true  and  correct." 

"What  answer  came  to  this?  " 


A  CORNER   IN  DOWNING   STREET.  355 

*'A  letter  from  the  minister,  saj'ing  that  the  lassie  was 
poorl}',  and  in  so  delicate  a  state  of  health  it  would  be  better 
not  to  agitate  her  by  any  mention  of  this  kind  for  the  pres- 
ent; meanwhile  he  would  take  up  his  information  from  Dr. 
Forbes,  whom  he  knew  well ;  and  if  the  reply  satisfied  him, 
he  'd  write  again  to  us  in  the  course  of  a  week  or  two;  and 
Sam  's  just  waiting  patiently  for  his  answer,  and  doing  his 
best,  in  the  mean  while,  to  prepare,  in  case  it 's  a  favorable 
one." 

Tony  fell  into  a  revery.  That  story  of  a  man  in  love  with 
one  it  might  never  be  his  destiny  to  win  had  its  own  deep 
significance  for  him.  Was  there  any  grief,  was  there  any 
misery,  to  compare  with  it?  And  although  Sam  M'Gruder, 
the  junior  partner  in  the  rag  trade,  was  not  a  very  romantic 
sort  of  character,  yet  did  he  feel  an  intense  sympathy  for 
him.  They  were  both  sufferers  from  the  same  malady,  — 
albeit  Sam's  attack  was  from  a  very  mild  form  of  the 
complaint. 

"You  must  give  me  a  letter  to  your  brother,"  said  he 
at  length.  "Some  day  or  other  I'm  sure  to  be  in  Italy, 
and  I  'd  like  to  know  him." 

"Ay,  and  he  'd  like  to  know  ijou^  now  that  he  ain't  jealous 
of  you.  The  last  thing  he  said  to  me  at  parting  was,  '  If 
ever  I  meet  that  Tony  Butler,  I  '11  give  him  the  best  bottle 
of  wine  in  my  cellar.'  " 

"AVhen  you  write  to  him  next,  say  that  I  'm  just  as  eager 
to  take  him  by  the  hand,  mind  that.  The  man  that 's  like 
to  be  a  good  husband  to  Dolly  Stewart  is  sure  to  be  a 
brother  to  me." 

And  they  went  back  to  town,  talking  little  by  the  way, 
for  each  was  thoughtful,  — M'Gruder  thinking  much  over 
all  they  had  been  saying ;  Tony  full  of  the  future,  yet  not 
able  to  exclude  the  past. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

MR.    BUTLER    FOR    DUTY  ON  - 


*'I  SUPPOSE  M'Gruder's  right,"  muttered  Tony,  as  he 
sauntered  away  drearily  from  the  door  at  Downing  Street, 
one  day  in  the  second  week  after  his  arrival  in  London. 
"  A  man  gets  to  feel  very  like  a  '  flunke}^,'  coming  up  in 
this  fashion  each  morning  '  for  orders.'  1  am  more  than 
half  disposed  to  close  with  his  offer  and  go  '  into  rags '  at 
once." 

If  he  hesitated,  he  assured  himself,  very  confidently  too, 
that  it  was  not  from  the  name  or  nature  of  the  commercial 
operation.  He  had  no  objection  to  trade  in  rags  any  more 
than  in  hides  or  tallow  or  oakum,  and  some  gum  which 
did  not  "breathe  of  Araby  the  blest."  He  was  sure  that 
it  could  not  possibly  affect  his  choice,  and  that  rags  were 
just  as  legitimate  and  just  as  elevating  a  speculation  as 
sherry  from  Cadiz  or  silk  from  China.  He  was  ingenious 
enough  in  his  self-discussions ;  but  somehow,  though  he 
thought  he  could  tell  his  mother  frankly  and  honestly  the 
new  trade  he  was  about  to  embark  in,  for  the  life  of  him  he 
could  not  summon  courage  to  make  the  communication  to 
Alice.  He  fancied  her,  as  she  read  the  avowal,  repeating 
the  word  "  rags,"  and,  while  her  lips  trembled  with  the 
coming  laughter,  saying,  "  What  in  the  name  of  all  absur- 
dity led  him  to  such  a  choice?"  And  what  a  number  of 
vapid  and  tasteless  jokes  would  it  provoke!  "Such  snob- 
bery as  it  all  is,"  cried  he,  as  he  walked  the  room  angrily ; 
"as  if  there  was  any  poetry  in  cotton  bales,  or  anything 
romantic  in  molasses,  and  3^et  I  might  engage  in  these 
without  reproach,  without  ridicule.  I  think  I  ought  to  be 
above  such  considerations.  I  do  think  my  good  blood  might 
serve  to  assure  me  that  in  whatever  I  do  honorably,  honestly, 
and  avowedly  there  is  no  derogation." 


MR.  BUTLER  FOR  DUTY  ON — .  357 

But  the  snobbery  was  stronger  than  he  wotted  of ;  for,  do 
what  he  would,  he  could  not  frame  the  sentence  in  which  he 
should  write  the  tidings  to  Alice,  and  yet  he  felt  that  there 
would  be  a  degree  of  meanness  in  the  non-avowal  infinitely 
more  intolerable. 

While  he  thus  chafed  and  fretted,  he  heard  a  quick  step 
mounting  the  stair,  and  at  the  same  instant  his  door  was 
flung  open,  and  Skeffy  Damer  rushed  towards  him  and 
grasped  both  his  hands. 

"Well,  old  Tony,  you  scarcely  expected  to  see  me  here, 
nor  did  I  either  thirty  hours  ago,  but  they  telegraphed  for 
me  to  come  at  once.     I  'm  off  for  Naples." 

"  And  why  to  Naples?  " 

"  I  '11  tell  you,  Tony,"  said  he,  confidentially ;  "  but  remem- 
ber this  is  for  yourself  alone.  These  things  mustn't  get 
abroad ;  they  are  Cabinet  secrets,  and  not  known  out  of  the 
Privy  Council." 

"  You  may  trust  me,"  said  Tony ;  and  Skeffy  went  on. 

*'  I'm  to  be  attached  there,"  said  he,  solemnly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  attached?  " 

"  /'m  going  there  officially.  They  want  me  at  our  Lega- 
tion. Sir  George  Home  is  on  leave,  and  Mecklam  is  Charge 
d'Affaires ;   of  course  every  one  knows  what  that  means." 

"But  /don't,"  said  Tony,  bluntly. 

"It  means  being  bullied,  being  jockeyed,  being  out- 
manoeuvred, laughed  at  by  Brennier,  and  derided  by  Ca- 
raffa.  Mecklam  's  an  ass,  Tony,  that 's  the  fact,  and  they 
know  it  at  the  Office,  and  I  'm  sent  out  to  steer  the 
ship." 

"  But  what  do  you  know  about  Naples?  " 

"  I  know  it  just  as  I  know  the  Ecuador  question,  —  just  as 
I  know  the  Mouth  of  the  Danube  question,  —  as  I  know  the 
slave  treaty  with  Portugal,  and  the  Sound  dues  with  Den- 
mark, and  the  right  of  search,  and  the  INIosquito  frontier, 
and  everything  else  that  is  pending  throughout  the  whole 
globe.  Let  me  tell  you,  old  fellow,  the  others  —  the 
French,  the  Italians,  and  the  Austrians  —  know  me  as  well 
as  they  know  Palmerston.  What  do  you  think  Walewski 
told  Lady  Pancroft  the  day  Cavour  went  down  to  Vichy 
to  see  the  Emperor?     They  held  a  long  conversation  at  a 


358  TONY  BUTLER. 

table  where  there  were  writing-materials,  and  Cavour  has 
an  Italian  habit  of  scribbling  all  the  time  he  talks,  and  he 
kept  on  scratching  with  a  pen  on  a  sheet  of  blotting-paper, 
and  what  do  you  think  he  wrote?  —  the  one  word,  over 
and  over  again,  Skeff,  Skeff,  —  nothing  else.  '  Which  led 
us,'  says  Walewski,  '  to  add,  Who  or  what  was  Skeff?  when 
they  told  us  he  was  a  young  fellow  '  —  these  are  his  own 
words  — '  of  splendid  abilities  in  the  Foreign  Office ; '  and 
if  there  is  anything  remarkable  in  Cavour,  it  is  the  way 
he  knows  and  finds  out  the  coming  man." 

*'  But  how  could  he  have  heard  of  you?  " 

''  These  fellows  have  their  spies  everywhere,  Tony.  Gort- 
chakoff  has  a  photograph  of  me,  with  two  words  in  Russian 
underneath,  that  I  got  translated,  and  that  mean  '  infernally 
dangerous  '  — tanskl  serateztrakoff,  infernall}-  dangerous  !  — 
over  his  stove  in  his  study.  You  're  behind  the  scenes  now, 
Tony,  and  it  will  be  rare  fun  for  you  to  watch  the  newspapers, 
and  see  how  differently  things  will  go  on  at  Naples  after  I 
arrive  there." 

"  Tell  me  something  about  home,  Skeffy ;  I  want  to  hear 
about  Tilney.  Whom  did  you  leave  there  when  you  came 
away  ?  " 

'- 1  left  the  Lyles,  Alice  and  Bella,  —  none  else.  I  was  to 
have  gone  back  with  them  to  Lyle  Abbey  if  I  had  stayed  till 
Monday,  and  I  left  them,  of  course,  very  disconsolate,  and 
greatly  put  out." 

"  I  suppose  you  made  up  to  Alice.  I  thought  you 
would,"  said  Tony,  half  sulkily. 

"  No,  old  fellow,  you  do  me  wrong ;  that 's  a  thing  I  never 
do.  As  I  said  to  Ernest  Palfi  about  Pauline  Esterhazy, 
I  '11  take  no  unfair  advantage,  —  I  '11  take  no  steps  in  your 
absence ;  and  Alice  saw  this  herself." 

"How  do  you  mean?  Alice  saw  it?"  said  Tony,  red- 
dening. 

"  She  saw  it,  for  she  said  to  me  one  day,  '  Mr.  Damer.  it 
seems  to  me  you  have  very  punctilious  notions  on  the  score 
of  friendship.' 

"  '  I  have,'  said  I;  '  you're  right  there.' 

"  '  I  thought  so,'  said  she." 

"  After  all,"  said  Tony,  in  a  half -dogged  tone,  "  I  don't 


*MR.  BUTLER  FOR  DUTY  ON .  359 

see  that  the  speech  had  auy  reference  to  ??ie,  or  to  auy 
peculiar  delicacy  of  yours  with  respect  to  me." 

''  Ah,  my  poor  Tony,  you  have  a  deal  to  learn  about 
women  and  their  ways  !  By  good  luck  fortune  has  given  you 
a  friend  —  the  one  man  —  1  declare  I  believe  what  I  say  — 
the  one  man  in  Europe  that  knows  the  whole  thing ;  as  poor 
Balzac  used  to  say,  '  Cher  Skeffy,  what  a  fellow  you  would 
be  if  you  had  my  pen !  '  He  was  a  vain  creature,  Balzac ; 
but  what  he  meant  was,  if  I  could  add  his  descriptive  power 
to  my  own  knowledge  of  life  ;  for  you  see,  Tony,  this  was  the 
difference  between  Balzac  and  me.  He  knew  Paris  and  the 
salons  of  Paris,  and  the  women  who  frequent  these  salons. 
I  knew^  the  human,  heart.  It  was  w^oman,  as  a  creature,  not 
a  mere  conventionality,  that  she  appeared  to  me." 

"Well,  I  take  it,"  grumbled  out  Tony,  "you  and  your 
friend  had  some  points  of  resemblance  too." 

"Ah!  you  would  say  that  we  were  both  vain.  So  we 
were,  Tony,  —  so  is  every  man  that  is  the  depository  of  a 
certain  power.  Without  this  same  conscious  thought,  which 
you  common  folk  call  vanit}^  how  should  w^e  come  to  exer- 
cise the  gift!  The  little  world  taunts  us  with  the  very 
quality  that  is  the  essence  of  our  superiority." 

"Had  Bella  perfectly  recovered?  was  she  able  to  be  up 
and  about  ? " 

"Yes,  she  was  able  to  take  carriage  airings,  and  to 
be  driven  about  in  a  small  phaeton  by  the  neatest  whip  in 
Europe." 

"Mr.  Skeff  Damer,  eh?" 

"Tlie  same.  Ah,  these  drives,  these  drives!  What 
delicious  memories  of  woodland  and  romance !  I  fell  des- 
perately in  love  with  that  girl,  Tony  —  I  pledge  you  my 
honor  I  did.  I  've  thought  a  great  deal  over  it  all  since  I 
started  for  Ireland,  and  I  have  a  plan,  a  plan  for  us  both." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Let  us  marry  these  girls.  Let  ns  be  brothers  in  law  as 
well  as  in  love.  You  prefer  Alice,  —  I  consent.  Take  her, 
take  her,  Tony,  and  may  you  be  happy  with  her !  "  And  as 
he  spoke,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  other's  head  with  a  reverend 
solemnit}^ 

"  This  is  nonsense,  and  worse  than  nonsense,"  said  Tony, 


360  TONY  BUTLER. 

angrily ;  but  the  other's  temper  was  imperturbable,  and  he 
went  on:  "You  fanc}'  this  is  all  dreamland  that  I'm 
promising  you :  but  that  is  because  you,  my  dear  Tony,  with 
many  good  qualities,  are  totally  wanting  in  one,  —  you  have 
no  imagination,  and,  like  all  fellows  denied  this  gift,  you 
never  can  conceive  anything  happening  to  you  except  what 
has  already  happened.  You  like  to  live  in  a  circle,  and  you 
do  live  in  a  circle,  — you  are  the  turnspits  of  humanity." 

"  I  am  a  troublesome  dog,  though,  if  you  anger  me,"  said 
Tony,  half  fiercely. 

"  Very  possibly,  but  there  are  certain  men  dogs  never 
attack."  And  as  Skeffy  said  this,  he  threw  forward  his 
chest,  held  his  head  back,  and  looked  with  an  air  of  such 
proud  defiance  that  Tony  lay  back  in  a  chair  and  laughed 
heartily. 

"  I  never  saw  a  great  hulking  fellow  yet' that  was  not  im- 
pressed with  the  greatness  of  his  stature,"  said  Skeffy. 
''  Every  inch  after  five  feet  six  takes  a  foot  off  a  man's 
intellectual  standard.  It  is  Skeff  Damer  says  it,  Tony,  and 
you  may  believe  it." 

"  I  wish  you  'd  tell  me  about  Tilne}^,"  said  Tony,  half 
irritably. 

"  I  appreciate  you,  as  the  French  say.  You  want  to  hear 
that  I  am  not  your  rival,  —  you  want  to  know  that  I  have 
not  taken  an}^  ungenerous  advantage  of  your  absence. 
Tonino  mio^  be  of  good  comfort,  —  I  preferred  the  sister; 
shall  I  tell  you  why  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  about  it." 

"What  a  jealous  dog  it  is,  even  after  I  have  declared,  on 
the  word  of  a  Damer,  that  he  has  nothing  to  apprehend  from 
me !  It  was  a  lucky  day  led  me  down  there,  Tony.  Don't 
you  remember  the  old  woman's  note  to  me,  mentioning  a 
hundred  pounds,  or  something  like  it,  she  had  forgotten  to 
enclose?  She  found  the  bank-note  afterwards  on  her  table, 
and  after  much  puzzling  with  herself,  ascertained  it  was  the 
sum  she  had  meant  to  remit  me.  Trifling  as  the  incident 
was  she  thought  it  delicate,  or  high-minded,  or  something  or 
other,  on  my  part.  She  said  '  it  was  so  nice  of  me ; '  and 
she  wrote  to  my  uncle  to  ask  if  he  ever  heard  such  a  pretty 
trait,   and  my  uncle    said   he  knew   scores   of  spendthrifts 


MR.  BUTLER  FOR  DUTY  ON .  361 

would  have  done  much  the  same ;  whereupon  the  old  lady  of 
Tilney,  regarding  me  as  ill-used  by  my  relatives,  declared 
she  would  do  something  for  me ;  but  as  her  good  intentions 
were  double-barrelled,  and  she  wanted  to  do  something  also 
for  Bella,  she  suggested  that  we  might,  as  the  Oberland 
peasants  say,  '  put  our  eggs  in  the  same  basket.'  A  day 
was  named,  too,  in  which  we  were  all  to  have  gone  over  to 
Lyle  Abbey,  and  open  negotiations  with  Sir  Arthur,  when 
came  this  confounded  despatch  ordering  me  off  to  Naples ! 
At  first  I  determined  not  to  go,  —  to  resign, — to  give  up 
public  life  forever.  '  "What 's  Hecuba  to  him  ?  '  said  I ; 
that  is,  '  AVhat  signifies  it  to  me  how  Europe  fares?  Shall  I 
not  think  of  Skeff  Damer  and  his  fortunes?'  Bowling  down 
dynasties  and  setting  up  ninepin  princes  may  amuse  a  man, 
but,  after  all,  is  it  not  to  the  tranquil  enjoyments  of  home 
he  looks  for  happiness?  I  consulted  Bella,  but  she  would 
not  agree  with  me.  Women,  my  dear  Tony,  are  more  am- 
bitious than  men,  —  I  had  almost  said,  more  worldly.  She 
would  not,  she  said,  have  me  leave  a  career  wherein  I  had 
given  such  great  promise.  '  You  might  be  an  ambassador 
one  day,'  said  she.  '  Must  be  ! '  interposed  I,  —  '  must  be  !  ' 
My  unfortunate  admission  decided  the  question,  and  I  started 
that  night." 

"I  don't  think  I  clearly  understand  you,"  said  Tony, 
passing  his  hand  over  his  brow.  ''Am  I  to  believe  that 
you  and  Bella  are  engaged  ?  " 

'•  I  know  what's  passing  in  your  mind,  old  fellow;  I  read 
you  like  large  print.  You  won't,  you  can't,  credit  the  fact 
that  I  would  marry  out  of  the  peerage.  Say  it  frankly  ;  out 
with  it." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind;  but  I  cannot  believe  that 
Bella  -  " 

"Ay,  but  she  did,"  said  Skeffy,  filling  up  his  pause, 
while  he  smoothed  and  caressed  his  very  young  moustaches. 
"Trust  a  woman  to  find  out  the  coming  man!  Trust  a 
woman  to  detect  the  qualities  that  insure  supremacy !  I 
was  n't  there  quite  three  weeks  in  all,  and  see  if  she  did  not 
discover  me.  What 's  this?  Here  comes  an  order  for  you, 
Tony,"  said  he,  as  he  looked  into  the  street  and  rpcopfnized 
one  of  the  porters  of  the  Foreign  Office.     "  This  is  the  place, 


362  TONY  BUTLER. 

Trumins,"  cried  he,  opening  the  window  and  calling  to  the 
man.     "  You  're  looking  for  Mr.  Butler,  are  n't  you?  " 

"  Mr.  Butler  on  duty,  Friday,  21,"  w^as  all  that  the  slip  of 
paper  contained.  "  There,"  cried  Skeffy,  "  who  knows  if 
we  shall  not  cross  the  Channel  together  to-night?  Put  on 
your  hat  and  we'll  walk  down  to  the  Office." 


CHAPTER  XXXVin. 

TONY    WAITING     FOR    ORDERS. 

Tony  Butler  was  ordered  to  Brussels  to  place  himself  at  the 
disposal  of  the  Miuister  as  an  ex-messenger.  He  crossed 
over  to  Calais  with  Skeffy  in  the  mail-boat;  and  after  a 
long  night's  talking,  for  neither  attempted  to  sleep,  they 
parted  with  the  most  fervent  assurances  of  friendship. 

"I'd  go  across  Europe  to  thrash  the  fellow  would  say  a 
hard  word  of  him,"  muttered  Tony ;  while  Skeffy,  with  an 
emotion  that  made  his  lip  tremble,  said,  "  If  the  world  goes 
bard  with  you,  I  '11  turn  my  back  on  it,  and  we  '11  start  for 
New  Zealand  or  Madagascar,  Tony,  remember  that,  —  I  give 
it  to  you  as  a  pledge." 

When  Tony  presented  himself  at  the  Legation,  he  found 
that  nobody  knew  anything  about  him.  They  had  some 
seven  or  eight  months  previous  requested  to  have  an  addi- 
tional messenger  appointed,  as  there  were  cases  occurring 
which  required  frequent  reference  to  home ;  but  the  emer- 
gency had  passed  over,  and  Brussels  was  once  again  as 
undisturbed  by  diplomatic  relations  as  any  of  the  Channel 
Islands. 

"Take  a  lodging  and  make  yourself  comfortable,  marry, 
and  subscribe  to  a  club  if  you  like  it,"  said  a  gray-headed 
attache,  with  a  cynical  face,  "for  in  all  likelihood  they'll 
never  remember  you 're  here."  The  speaker  had  some  expe- 
riences of  this  sort  of  official  forgetfulness,  with  the  added 
misfortune  that,  when  he  once  had  summoned  courage  to 
remonstrate  against  it,  they  did  remember  him,  but  it  was  to 
change  him  from  a  first  to  a  second-class  mission  —  in  Irish 
phrase,  promoting  him  backwards  —  for  his  temerity. 

Tony  installed  himself  in  a  snug  little  quarter  outside  the 
town,    and   set   himself   vigorously   to   study   French.      In 


364  TONY  BUTLER. 

Knickerbocker's  "  History  of  New  York,"  we  read  that  the 
sittings  of  the  Council  were  always  measured  and  recorded 
by  the  number  of  pipes  smoked  by  the  Cabinet.  In  the 
same  way  might  it  be  said  that  Tony  Butler's  progress  in 
Ollendorf  was  only  to  be  computed  by  the  quantity  of 
tobacco  consumed  over  it.  The  pronouns  had  cost  two 
boxes  of  cigars ;  the  genders  a  large  packet  of  assorted 
cavendish  and  bird's-eye ;  and  he  stood  fast  on  the  frontier 
of  the  irregular  verbs,  waiting  for  a  large  bag  of  Turkish 
that  Skeffy  wrote  to  say  he  had  forwarded  to  him  through 
the  Office. 

Why  have  we  no  statistics  of  the  influence  of  tobacco  on 
education?  AVhy  will  no  one  direct  his  attention  to  the 
inquiry  as  to  how  far  the  Tony  Butlers  —  a  large  class  in 
the  British  Islands  —  are  more  moved  to  exertion,  or  hope- 
lessly muddled  in  intellect,  by  the  soothing  influences  of 
smoke  ? 

Tony  smoked  on  and  on.  He  wrote  home  occasionally, 
and  made  three  attempts  to  write  to  Alice,  who,  despite  his 
silence,  had  sent  him  a  very  pleasant  letter  about  home 
matters.  It  was  not  a  neighborhood  to  afford  much  news; 
and  indeed,  as  she  said,  "they  have  been  unusually  dull  of 
late;  scarcely  any  visitors,  and  few  of  the  neighbors.  We 
miss  your  friend  Skeff  greatly ;  for,  with  all  his  oddities  and 
eccentricities,  he  had  won  upon  us  imraensel}^  by  real  traits 
of  generosity  and  liigh-mindedness.  There  is  another  friend 
of  yours  here  I  would  gladly  know  well,  but  she  —  Miss 
Stewart  —  retreats  from  all  my  advances,  and  has  so  posi- 
tively declined  allour  invitations  to  the  Abbey  that  it  would 
seem  to  imply,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible,  a  special  deter- 
mination to  avoid  us.  I  know  j^ou  well  enough,  ^Master 
Tony,  to  be  aware  that  you  will  ascribe  all  my  ardor  in  this 
pursuit  to  the  fact  of  there  being  an  obstacle.  As  3'ou  once 
told  me  about  a  certain  short  cut  from  Portrush,  the  only 
real  advantage  it  had  was  a  stiff  four-foot  wall  which  must 
be  jumped  ;  but  j^ou  are  wrong,  and  j^ou  are  unjust,  —  two 
things  not  at  all  new  to  you.  jMj^  intentions  here  were  really 
good.  I  had  heard  from  your  dear  mother  that  Miss 
Stewart  was  in  bad  health,  —  that  fears  were  felt  lest  her 
chest  was  affected.     Now,  as  the  doctors  concurred  in  de- 


TONY  WAITING  FOR  ORDERS.  365 

daring  that  Bella  must  pass  one  winter,  at  least,  in  a  warm 
climate,  so  I  imagined  how  easy  it  would  be  to  extend  the 
benefit  of  genial  air  and  sunshine  to  this  really  interesting 
girl,  by  offering,  to  take  her  as  a  companion.  Bella  was 
charmed  with  my  project,  and  we  walked  over  to  the  Bum- 
side  on  Tuesday  to  propose  it  in  all  form. 

"To  the  shame  of  our  diplomacy  we  failed  completely. 
The  old  minister,  indeed,  was  not  averse  to  the  plan,  and 
professed  to  think  it  a  most  thoughtful  attention  on  our  part ; 
but  Dolly,  —  I  call  her  Dolly,  for  it  is  by  that  name,  so  often 
recurring  in  the  discussion,  I  associate  her  best  with  the 
incident,  —  Dolly  was  peremptory  in  her  refusal.  I  wanted, 
—  perhaps  a  little  unfairly,  —  I  wanted  to  hear  her  reasons.  I 
asked  if  there  might  not  possibly  be  something  in  her  objec- 
tions to  which  we  could  reply.  I  pressed  her  to  reconsider 
the  matter,  —  to  take  a  week,  two  if  she  liked,  to  think  over 
it ;  but  no,  she  would  not  listen  to  my  compromise ;  she  was 
steady  and  resolute,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  much  moved. 
She  said  '  No ! '  but  she  said  it  as  if  there  was  a  reason  she 
should  say  so,  while  it  was  in  direct  violence  to  all  her 
wishes.  Mind,  this  is  mere  surmise  on  my  part.  I  am 
speaking  of  one  of  whose  nature  and  temperament  I  know 
nothing.  I  may  just  as  easily  be  wrong  as  right.  She  is, 
indeed,  a  puzzle  to  me ;  and  one  little  trait  of  her  has  com- 
pletel}'  routed  all  my  conceit  in  my  own  power  of  reading 
character.  In  my  eagerness  to  overcome  her  objections,  I 
was  picturing  the  life  of  enjoyment  and  interest  Italy  would 
open  to  her,  —  the  charm  of  a  land  that  realizes  in  daily  life 
what  poets  and  painters  can  onl}'  shadow  forth ;  and  in  my 
ardor  I  so  far  forgot  myself  as  to  call  her  Dolly,  — '  dear 
Dolly,'  I  said.  The  words  overcame  her  at  once.  She  grew 
pale,  so  sickly  pale  that  I  thought  she  would  have  fainted  ; 
and  as  two  heav}^  tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  she  said  in  a 
cold  quiet  voice :  '  I  beg  you  will  not  press  me  any  more. 
I  am  very  grateful  to  you ;  but  I  cannot  accept  your 
offer.' 

"Bella  insisted  on  our  going  over  to  your  mother,  and 
enlisting  her  advocacy  in  the  cause.  I  did  not  like  the 
notion,  but  I  gave  way.  Your  dear  mother,  all  kind  as  she 
ever  is,  went  the  same  evening  to  the  Burnside ;  but  a  short 


366  TONY  BUTLER. 

note  from  her  the  next  morning  showed  she  had  no  better 
success  than  ourselves. 

"Naturally,  — you  at  least  will  say  so,  — I  am  ten  times 
more  eager  about  my  plan  now  that  it  is  pronounced  im- 
practicable. I  have  written  to  Dr.  Stewart.  I  have  sent 
papa  to  him;  mamma  has  called  at  the  cottage.  I  have 
made  Dr.  Reede  give  a  written  declaration  that  Miss  Stew- 
art's case, — I  quote  him,  —  'as  indicated  by  a  distinct 
"Bronchoffany  "  in  the  superior  portion  of  the  right  luug, 
imperatively  demands  the  benefit  of  a  warm  and  genial 
climate ; '  and  with  all  these  jjieces  de  conviction  I  am  beaten, 
turned  out  of  court,  and  denied  a  verdict. 

"Have  you  any  explanation  to  offer  about  this.  Master 
Tony  ?  Dolly  was  an  old  playfellow  of  yours,  your  mother 
tells  me.  What  key  can  you  give  us  as  to  her  nature?  Is 
she  like  what  she  was  in  those  old  da3^s;  and  when  did  3^ou 
cease  to  have  these  games  together?  I  fancied  —  was  \i 
mere  fancy?  —  that  she  grew  a  little  red  when  we  spoke  of 
you.  Mind,  sir,  I  want  no  confessions.  I  want  nothing 
from  you  but  what  may  serve  to  throw  light  upon  her.  If 
you  can  suggest  to  me  any  means  of  overcoming  the  objec- 
tion she  seems  to  entertain  to  our  plan,  do  so;  and  if  you 
cannot,  please  to  hold  your  peace  on  this  matter  ever  after. 
1  wrote  yesterday  to  Mark,  who  is  now  at  Milan,  to  make 
some  inquiries  about  Italian  villa  life.  I  was  really  afraid 
to  speak  to  yowY  friend  Skeff,  lest,  as  mamma  said,  he  should 
immediately  offer  us  one  of  the  royal  palaces  as  a  residence. 
No  matter,  he  is  a  dear  good  fellow,  and  I  have  an  un- 
bounded reliance  on  his  generosity. 

"Now,  a  word  about  yourself.  Why  are  you  at  Brussels? 
Wh}^  are  you  a  fixed  star,  after  telling  us  3'ou  were  engaged 
as  a  planet?  Are  there  any  m^^sterious  reasons  for  3^our 
residence  there?  If  so,  I  don't  ask  to  hear  them;  but  yowv 
mother  naturally  would  like  to  know  something  about  3^ou 
a  little  mpre  explanatory  than  your  last  bulletin,  that  said, 
'  I  am  here  still,  and  likely  to  be  so.' 

"I  had  a  most  amusing  letter  from  Mr.  Maitland  a  few 
days  ago.  I  had  put  it  into  this  envelope  to  let  you  read 
it,  but  I  took  it  out  again,  as  I  remembered  3"our  great  and 
very  unjust  prejudices  against  him.     He   seems   to   know 


TONY   WAITING  FOR  ORDERS.  367 

every  one  and  everything,  and  is  just  as  familiar  with  the 
great  events  of  politics  as  with  the  great  people  who  mould 
them.  I  read  for  your  mother  his  description  of  the  life 
at  Fontainebleau,  and  the  eccentricities  of  a  beautiful 
Italian  Countess  Castagnolo,  the  reigning  belle  there;  and 
she  was  much  amused,  though  she  owned  that  four  changes 
of  raiment  daily  was  too  much  even  for  Delilah  herself. 

"Do  put  a  little  coercion  on  yourself,  and  write  me  even 
a  note.  I  assure  you  I  would  write  you  most  pleasant  little 
letters  if  you  showed  you  merited  them.  I  have  a  budget 
of  small  gossip  about  the  neighbors,  no  particle  of  which 
shall  you  ever  see  till  you  deserve  better  of  your  old 
friend, 

"Alice  Trafford." 

It  may  be  imagined  that  it  was  in  a  very  varying  tone 
of  mind  he  read  through  this  letter.  If  Dolly's  refusal  was 
not  based  on  her  unwillingness  to  leave  her  father,  —  and  if 
it  were,  she  could  have  said  so, —  it  was  quite  inexplicable. 
Of  all  the  girls  he  had  ever  known,  he  never  saw  one  more 
likely  to  be  captivated  by  such  an  offer.  She  had  that 
sort  of  nature  that  likes  to  invest  each  event  of  life  with  a 
certain  romance;  and  where  could  anything  have  opened 
such  a  vista  for  castle-building  as  this  scheme  of  foreign 
travel?  Of  course  he  could  not  explain  it;  how  should  he? 
Dolly  was  only  partly  like  what  she  used  to  be  long  ago. 
In  those  days  she  had  no  secrets,  —  at  least,  none  from  him ; 
now  she  had  long  dreary  intervals  of  silence  and  reflection, 
as  though  brooding  over  something  she  did  not  wish  to  tell 
of.  This  was  not  the  Dolly  Stewart  he  used  to  know  so 
well.  As  he  re-read  the  letter,  and  came  to  that  passage 
in  which  she  tells  him  that  if  he  cannot  explain  what  Dolly's 
refusal  is  owing  to  without  making  a  confession,  he  need 
not  do  so,  he  grew  almost  irritable,  and  said,  "What  can 
she  mean  by  this?"  Surely  it  is  not  possible  that  Alice 
could  have  listened  to  any  story  that  coupled  his  name  with 
Dolly's,  and  should  thus  by  insinuation  charge  him  with 
the  allegation?  Lady  Lyle  had  said  to  himself,  "I  heard 
the  story  from  one  of  the  girls."  Was  it  this,  then,  that 
Alice  referred  to?     Surely  she  knew  him  better;  surely  she 


368  TONY  BUTLER. 

knew  how  he  loved  her,  no  matter  how  hopelessly  it  might 
be.  Perhaps  women  liked  to  give  this  sort  of  pain  to  those 
whose  heart  they  owned.  Perhaps  it  was  a  species  of  tor- 
ture they  were  given  to.  Skeffy  could  tell  if  he  were  here. 
Skeffy  could  resolve  this  point  at  once,  but  it  was  too  much 
for  Jtim. 

As  to  the  passage  about  Maitland,  he  almost  tore  the 
paper  as  he  read  it.  By  what  right  did  he  correspond  with 
her  at  all?  Why  should  he  write  to  her  even  such  small 
matter  as  the  gossip  of  a  court?  And  what  could  Alice 
mean  by  telling  him  of  it,  unless  —  and  oh,  the  bitterness  of 
this  thought!  —  it  was  to  intimate  by  a  mere  passing  word 
the  relations  that  subsisted  between  herself  and  Maitland, 
and  thus  convey  to  him  the  utter  hopelessness  of  his  own 
pretensions? 

As  Tony  walked  up  and  down  his  room,  he  devised  a  very 
strong,  it  was  almost  a  fierce,  reply  to  this  letter.  He  would 
tell  her  that  as  to  Dolly  he  could  not  say,  but  she  might 
have  some  of  his  own  scruples  about  that  same  position 
called  companion.  When  he  knew  her  long  ago,  she  was 
independent  enough  in  spirit,  and  it  was  by  no  means 
impossible  she  might  prefer  a  less  brilliant  condition  if 
unclogged  with  observances  that  might  savor  of  homage. 
At  all  events,  he  was  no  fine  and  subtle  intelligence  to 
whom  a  case  of  difficulty  could  be  submitted. 

As  for  Maitland,  he  hated  him !  he  was  not  going  to  con- 
ceal it  in  any  way.  His  air  of  insolent  superioj'ity  he  had 
not  forgotten,  nor  would  he  forget  till  he  had  found  an 
opportunity  to  retort  it.  Alice  might  think  him  as  amusing 
as  she  pleased.  To  himself  the  man  was  simply  odious, 
and  if  the  result  of  all  his  varied  gifts  and  accomplishments 
was  only  to  make  up  such  a  being  as  he  was,  then  would  he 
welcome  the  most  unlettered  and  uninformed  clown  that 
ever  walked,  rather  than  this  mass  of  conceit  and  self- 
sufficiency. 

He  sat  down  to  commit  these  thoughts  to  paper,  and 
though  he  scrawled  over  seven  sheets  in  the  attempt,  noth- 
ing but  failure  came  of  it.  Maitland  came  in,  if  not  by 
name,  by  insinuation,  everywhere;  and,  in  spite  of  himself, 
he  found  he  had  got  into  a  tone  not  merely  querulous,  but 


TONY   WAITING  FOR   ORDERS.  369 

actually  aggressive,  and  was  using  towards  Alice  an  air  of 
reproof  that  be  almost  trembled  at  as  he  re-read  it. 

"This  will  never  do,"  cried  he,  as  he  tore  up  the  scrib- 
bled sheets.  "I'll  wait  till  to-morrow,  and  perhaps  I  shall 
do  better."  When  the  morrow  came,  he  was  despatched 
on  duty,  and  Alice  remained  unanswered. 


24 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

THE    major's    mission. 

If  my  reader  has  been  as  retentive  as  I  could  wish  him,  he 
will  have  borne  in  mind  that  on  the  evening  when  Major 
M'Caskey  took  a  very  menacing  leave  of  Norman  Maitland 
at  Paris,  Count  Caffarelli  had  promised  his  friend  to  write 
to  General  Filangieri  to  obtain  from  the  King  a  letter 
addressed  to  Maitland  in  the  royal  hand  by  the  title  of 
Count  of  Amalfi,  —  such  a  recognition  being  as  valid  an  act 
of  ennoblement  as  all  the  declarations  and  registrations  and 
emblazonments  of  heralds  and  the  colleges. 

It  had  been  originally  intended  that  this  letter  should  be 
enclosed  to  Count  Ludolf,  the  Neapolitan  envoy  at  Turin, 
where  Maitland  would  have  found  it;  but  seeing  the  spirit 
which  had  now  grown  up  between  Maitland  and  M'Caskey, 
and  foreseeing  well  what  would  occur  whenever  these  two 
men  should  meet,  Caffarelli,  with  that  astuteness  that  never 
fails  the  Italian,  determined  to  avert  the  peril  by  a  strata- 
gem which  lent  its  aid  to  the  object  he  had  in  hand.  He 
begged  the  General  would  transmit  the  letter  from  the  King, 
not  to  Turin,  but  to  the  Castello  di  Montanara,  where  Mait- 
land had  long  resided,  in  a  far-away  part  of  Calabria,  and 
employ  as  the  messenger  M'Caskey  himself;  by  which 
means  this  very  irritable  and  irritating  individual  might 
be,  for  a  time  at  least,  withdrawn  from  public  view,  and  an 
immediate  meeting  with  Maitland  prevented. 

It  was  not  very  difficult,  without  any  breach  of  confi- 
dence, for  Caffarelli  to  convey  to  Filangieri  that  his  choice 
of  M'Caskey  for  this  mission  was  something  stronger 
than  a  caprice,  and  that  his  real  wish  was  that  this  fiery 
personage  should  not  be  at  Naples  when  they  arrived 
there. 


THE  MAJOR'S  MISSION.  371 

A  very  brief  note,  which  reached  Caffarelli  before  he  had 
left  Paris,  informed  him  that  all  he  had  requested  had  been 
duly  done.  "He  gave  it,"  —  it  was  of  the  King  he  spoke, 
—  "  he  gave  it  at  once,  Carlo ;  only  saying,  with  a  laugh, 
'  One  of  my  brothers  may  dispute  it  with  him  some  of 
these  days,  for  it  gives  some  privilege;  but  whether  it  be 
to  claim  the  rights  of  the  Church  after  high  treason,  or 
to  have  two  wives  in  Lower  Calabria,  I  don't  remember; 
but  tell  your  friend  to  avoid  both  murder  and  matrimony, 
at  least  till  he  returns  to  a  more  civilized  region. ' 

"I  shall  send  the  Irish  Major  with  the  despatch,  as  you 
wish.  If  I  understand  you  aright,  you  are  not  over-anxious 
he  should   come    back  with    the  answer.     But  why  not  be 

more    explicit?     If   you    want remember   Calabria    is 

Calabria,  — you  understand." 

At  first  Caffarelli  had  intended  not  to  show  this  note  to 
Maitland;  but  the  profound  contempt  which  his  friend 
exhibited  for  M'Caskey,  proved  that  no  sense  of  a  debt 
of  honor  outstanding  between  them  would  lessen  Maitland's 
satisfaction  at  hearing  that  this  troublesome  "  cur  "  —  so 
he  called  him  —  should  not  be  yelping  at  his  heels  through 
the  streets  of  Naples. 

Maitland,  in  fact,  declared  that  he  knew  of  no  misfortune 
in  life  so  thoroughly  ruinous  as  to  be  confronted  in  a  quarrel 
with  a  questionable  antagonist.  From  the  ridicule  of  such 
a  situation,  he  averred,  the  only  escape  was  in  a  fatal 
ending;  and  Maitland  knew  nothing  so  bad  as  ridicule. 
Enmity  in  all  its  shapes  he  had  faced,  and  could  face  again. 
Give  him  a  foe  but  worthy  of  him,  and  no  man  ever  sprang 
into  the  lists  with  a  lighter  heart;  the  dread  of  a  false 
position  was  too  much  for  him. 

Leaving  these  two  friends  then  at  Paris,  to  talk,  amid 
their  lives  of  many  dissipations,  of  plots  and  schemes  and 
ambitions,  let  us  betake  ourselves  to  a  very  distant  spot,  at 
the  extreme  verge  of  the  Continent,  —  a  little  inlet  on  the 
Calabrian  coast  below  Reggio;  where,  on  a  small  promon- 
tory separating  two  narrow  bays,  stands  the  lone  castle  of 
Montanara.  It  had  been  originally  a  convent,  as  its  vast 
size  indicates,  but  was  purchased  and  converted  into  a  royal 
residence  by  a  former  king  of  Naples,  who  spent  incredible 


372  TONY  BUTLER. 

sums  on  the  buildings  and  the  gardens.  The  latter,  espe- 
cially, were  most  costly,  since  they  were  entirely  artificial, 
—  the  earth  having  been  carried  from  the  vicinity  of 
Naples. 

The  castle  itself  was  the  most  incongruous  mass  that 
could  be  conceived,  embracing  the  fortress,  the  convent, 
the  ornate  style  of  Venice,  and  the  luxurious  vastness  of 
an  Oriental  palace,  all  within  its  walls.  It  may  be  ima- 
gined that  no  private  fortune,  however  ample,  could  have 
kept  in  perfect  order  a  place  of  such  immense  size,  the  gar- 
dens alone  requiring  above  thirty  men  constantly  at  work, 
and  the  repairs  of  the  sea-wall  being  a  labor  that  never 
ended. 

The  present  occupant,  Sir  Omerod  Butler,  lived  in  one 
small  block  called  the  "Molo,"  which  projected  into  the 
sea  at  the  very  end  of  the  promontory,  and  was  approach- 
able on  the  land  side  by  a  beautiful  avenue  of  cedars.  They 
were  of  great  age,  and,  tradition  said,  had  been  brought 
from  Lebanon.  If  ruin  and  neglect  and  desolation  charac- 
terized all  around,  no  sooner  had  the  traveller  entered  this 
shady  approach  than  all  changed  to  the  most  perfect  care 
and  culture,  —  flowery  shrubs  of  every  kind,  beds  of  gor- 
geous flowers,  percjolati  of  vines  leading  down  to  the  sea, 
and  orange  groves  dipping  their  golden  balls  in  the  blue 
Mediterranean  at  every  step,  till  the  ample  gate  was 
reached ;  passing  into  which  you  entered  a  spacious  court 
paved  with  variegated  marble,  with  a  massive  fountain  in 
the  centre.  From  this  court,  under  a  pillared  archwa^^  led 
off  all  the  lower  rooms,  -r-  great  spacious  chambers,  with 
richly  painted  ceilings  and  tessellated  floors.  Into  these 
was  gathered  the  most  costly  furniture  of  the  whole  palace ; 
tables  and  consoles  of  malachite  and  porphyry,  gorgeously 
inlaid  slabs  of  loins  lazuli  and  agate,  cabinets  of  rare 
beauty,  and  objects  of  ancient  art.  Passing  through  these 
again,  you  gained  the  rooms  of  daily  habitation,  arranged 
with  all  the  taste  and  luxury  of  modern  refinement,  and 
distinctively  marking  that  the  cold  splendor  without  could 
not  attain  to  that  sense  of  comfort  and  voluptuous  ease 
which  an  age  of  greater  indulgence  requires. 

The  outer  gate  of  the  castle,  which  opened  by  a  draw- 


THE   MAJOR'S   MISSION.  373 

bridge  over  a  deep  moat,  on  the  Reggio  road,  was  little 
less  than  a  mile  off;  and  it  may  give  some  idea  of  the  vast 
size  of  the  place  to  state  that,  from  that  entrance  to  the 
Molo,  there  was  a  succession  of  buildings  of  one  kind  or 
other,  only  interrupted  by  areas  of  courtyard  or  garden. 

When,  at  the  close  of  a  sultry  day.  Major  M'Caskey 
presented  himself  at  this  gate,  summoning  the  porter  with  a 
vigorous  pull  of  the  bell,  he  was  not  admitted  till  a  very 
careful  scrutiny  showed  that  he  was  alone,  and  did  not, 
besides,  exhibit  anything  very  formidable  in  his  appearance. 
He  was  told,  as  he  passed  in,  that  he  must  leave  his  horse  at 
the  stables  beside  the  gate,  and  make  the  rest  of  his  vray 
on  foot.  The  Major  was  both  tired  and  hungry;  he  had 
been  in  the  saddle  since  daybreak,  had  twice  missed  his 
way,  and  tasted  no  food  since  he  set  out. 

"  Is  there  much  more  of  this  confounded  way  to  go  ?  " 
asked  he  of  his  guide,  as  they  now  mounted  a  terrace, 
only  to  descend  again. 

"About  a  quarter  of  an  hour  will  bring  you  to  the  Molo," 
said  the  other,  just  as  ill-pleased  to  have  the  duty  of  escort- 
ing him.  A  quick  glance  at  the  fellow's  face  showed  the 
Major  how  hopeless  it  would  be  to  expect  any  information 
from  him;  and  though  he  was  burning  to  know  who  inhab- 
ited this  lonesome  place,  and  why  he  lived  there,  he  forebore 
all  questioning,  and  went  along  in  silence. 

"There!"  said  his  guide,  at  last,  as  they  reached  a  great 
archway  standing  alone  in  a  sort  of  lawn, — "there!  you 
follow  that  road  to  the  little  gate  yonder,  pass  in,  cross  the 
garden,  and  you  will  be  at  the  side  entrance  of  the  ]Molo. 
I  don't  suppose  you  want  to  enter  by  the  grand  gate?  " 

Major  M'Caskey  was  not  much  in  the  habit  of  suffering 
an  insolence  to  pass  unresented ;  but  he  seemed  to  control 
himself  as  he  drew  forth  his  purse  and  took  out  a  crown 
piece.  "This  is  for  your  trouble,  my  worthy  fellow,"  said 
he;  "go  and  look  for  it  yonder;"  and  he  jerked  the  piece 
of  money  over  the  low  parapet,  and  sent  it  skimming  along 
the  sea  a  hundred  yards  off. 

Though  the  man's  lips  murmured  in  passion,  and  his 
dark  eyes  flashed  anaer,  one  look  at  the  face  of  his  com- 
panion assured  him  that  the  safer  policy  was  to  restrain  his 


374  TONY  BUTLER. 

wrath,  and,  touching  his  hat  in  salute,  he  retired  without 
a  word. 

As  though  he  felt  in  better  temper  with  himself  for  having 
thus  discharged  this  little  debt,  the  Major  stepped  more 
briskly  forward,  gained  the  small  postern,  and  entered  a 
large  and  formal  garden,  the  chief  avenue  of  which  showed 
him  the  gate  at  the  extremity.  It  lay  open,  and  he  found 
himself  in  a  large  vaulted  hall,  from  which  doors  led  off. 
In  doubt  which  course  to  take,  he  turned  to  seek  for  a  bell, 
but  there  was  none  to  be  found ;  and  after  a  careful  search 
on  every  side,  he  determined  to  announce  himself  by  a  stout 
knocking  at  one  of  the  doors  before  him. 

The  hollow  clamor  resounded  through  the  whole  building, 
and  soon  brought  down  two  men  in  faded  livery,  half  terri- 
fied, half  angry  at  the  summons. 

M'Caskey,  at  once  assuming  the  upper  hand,  a  habit  in 
which  practice  had  made  him  proficient,  demanded  haugh- 
tily to  see  "the  Count,"  their  master. 

"He  is  at  dinner,"  said  they  both  together. 

"I  wish  I  were  so  too,"  said  the  Major.  "Go  in  and 
tell  him  that  I  am  the  bearer  of  a  royal  despatch,  and  desire 
to  see  him  immediately." 

They  held  counsel  together  in  whispers  for  a  few  minutes, 
during  which  the  name  Maria  occurred  frequently  between 
them.  "We  will  tell  the  Signora  Maria  you  are  here," 
said  one,  at  last. 

"And  who  may  she  be?"  said  M'Caskey,  haughtily. 

"  She  is  the  Cameriera  of  the  Countess,  and  the  chief  of 
all  the  household." 

"My  business  is  not  with  a  waiting-woman.  I  have 
come  to  see  the  Count  of  Amalfi,"  said  the  Major,  sternly. 

The  men  apparently  knew  their  own  duties  best,  and, 
civilly  asking  him  to  follow,  they  led  the  way  up  a  small 
flight  of  stairs,  and  after  traversing  some  scantily  furnished 
rooms,  showed  him  into  a  pretty  decorated  little  chamber, 
with  two  windows  looking  on  the  sea. 

Having  politely  begged  him  to  be  seated,  they  left  him. 
The  Major,  besides  being  hungry  and  jaded,  was  irritable 
and  angry.  Filangieri  had  told  him  his  mission  was  one 
of  importance  and  high  trust;  in  fact,  so  much  so,  that  it 


THE   MAJOR'S  MISSION.  375 

could  not  be  confided  to  one  less  known  than  himself.  And 
was  this  the  way  they  received  a  royal  envoy,  sent  on  such 
an  errand?  While  he  thus  fumed  and  chafed,  he  heard  a 
door  open  and  close,  and  shortly  after  the  sweep  of  a 
woman's  dress  coming  along  the  corridor;  and  now  the 
step  came  nearer,  and  the  door  opened,  and  a  tall,  sickly- 
looking  woman  entered ;  but  scarcely  had  she  advanced  one 
pace  within  the  room,  when  she  uttered  a  faint  scream  and 
fainted. 

The  Major's  first  care  was  to  turn  the  key  in  the  lock; 
his  second  was  to  lift  up  the  almost  lifeless  figure,  and  place 
her  on  a  sofa.  As  he  did  so,  any  emotion  that  his  features 
betrayed  was  rather  of  displeasure  than  astonishment;  and 
in  the  impatient  way  he  jerked  open  the  window  to  let  the 
fresh  air  blow  on  her,  there  was  far  more  of  auger  than 
surprise. 

"So,  then,  you  are  the  Signora  Maria,  it  would  seem," 
were  the  first  words  she  heard  as  she  rallied  from  her 
swoon. 

"Oh,  Miles!"  cried  she,  with  an  intense  agony,  "why 
have  you  tracked  me  here?  Could  you  not  have  let  me  drag 
out  my  few  years  of  life  in  peace?  " 

It  was  difficult  to  guess  how  these  words  affected  him, 
or,  rather,  in  how  many  different  ways ;  for  though  at  first 
his  e3^es  flashed  angrily,  he  soon  gave  a  short  jeering  sort 
of  laugh,  and,  throwing  himself  down  into  a  chair,  he 
crossed  his  arms  on  his  breast  and  gazed  steadily  at  her. 

The  look  seemed  to  remind  her  of  b3'gone  suffering,  for 
she  turned  her  head  away,  and  then  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands. 

"Signora  Maria,"  said  he,  slowly,  —  "unless,  indeed,  you 
still  desire  I  should  call  you  Mrs.  M'Caskey." 

"No,  no, —  Maria,"  cried  she,  wildly;  "I  am  but  a  servant 
—  I  toil  for  my  bread ;  but  better  that  than  —  "  She  stopped, 
and,  after  an  effort  to  subdue  her  emotion,  burst  into  tears 
and  sobbed  bitterly. 

"It  matters  little  to  me,  madam,  what  the  name.  The 
chain  that  ties  us  is  just  as  irrevocable,  whatever  we  choose 
to  call  ourselves.  As  to  anything  else,  I  do  not  suppose 
you  intend  to  claim  me  as  your  husband." 


376  TONY  BUTLER. 

"No,  no,  never,"  cried  she,  impetuously. 

"Nor  am  I  less  generous,  madam.  None  shall  ever  hear 
from  me  that  you  were  my  wife.  The  contract  was  one  that 
brought  little  credit  to  either  of  us." 

"Nothing  but  misery  and  misfortune  tome!"  said  she, 
bitterly;  "nothing  else,  — nothing  else!  " 

"You  remind  me,  madam,"  said  he,  in  a  slow,  deliberate 
voice,  as  though  he  were  enunciating  some  long-resolved 
sentiment,  — "you  remind  me  much  of  Josephine." 

"  Who  is  Josephine  ?  "  asked  she,  quickly. 

"I  speak  of  the  Empress  Josephine,  so  you  may  perceive 
that  I  have  sought  your  parallel  in  high  places.  She,  like 
you,  deemed  herself  the  most  unhappy  of  women,  and  all 
because  destiny  had  linked  her  with  a  greatness  that  she 
could  not  measure." 

Though  her  vacant  stare  might  have  assured  him  either 
that  she  did  not  understand  his  words,  or  follow  their 
meaning,  never  daunted,  he  went  on. 

"Yes,  madam;  and,  like  her  husband,  yours  has  had 
much  to  bear, — levity,   frivolity,   and  —  worse." 

"What  are  you  here  for?  Why  have  you  come  after 
me?"  cried  she,  wildly.  "I  swore  to  you  before,  and  I 
swear  it  again,  that  I  will  never  go  back  to  you." 

"Whenever  you  reduce  that  pledge  to  writing,  madam, 
call  on  me  to  be  your  security  for  its  due  performance ;  be 
it  known  to  you,  therefore,  that  this  meeting  was  an  unex- 
pected happiness  to  me." 

She  covered  her  face,  and  rocked  to  and  fro  like  one  in 
the  throes  of  a  deep  suffering. 

"  I  should  be  a  glutton,  madam,  if  I  desired  a  repetition 
of  such  scenes  as  these ;  they  filled  eight  years  —  eight 
mortal  years  —  of  a  life  not  otherwise  immemorable." 

"And  what  have  they  done  for  me?"  cried  she,  roused 
ahnost  to  boldness  by  his  taunting  manner. 

"Made  you  thinner,  paler,  a  trifle  more  aged,  perhaps," 
said  he,  scanning  her  leisurely;  "but  always  what  French- 
men would  call  a,  femme  charmante." 

The  mockery  seemed  more  than  she  could  bear,  for  she 
sprang  to  her  feet,  and,  in  a  voice  vibrating  with  passion, 
said,  "Take  care,  Miles  M'Caskey, — take  care;  there  are 


THE   MAJOR'S  MISSION.  377 

men  here,  if  they  saw  me  insulted,  would  throw  you  over 
that  sea-wall  as  soon  as  look  at  you." 

'•Ring  for  your  bravos,  madam, — summon  your  eon- 
dottieri  at  once,"  said  he,  with  an  impudent  laugh;  ''they  '11 
have  some  warmer  work  than  they  bargained  for." 

"Oh,  why  not  leave  me  in  peace?  —  why  not  let  me  have 
these  few  years  of  life  without  more  of  shame  and  misery? " 
said  she,  throwing  herself  on  her  knees  before  him. 

"Permit  me  to  offer  you  a  chair,  madam,"  said  he,  as  he 
took  her  hands,  and  placed  her  on  a  seat;  ''and  let  me  beg 
that  we  talk  of  something  else.  Who  is  the  Count?  — '  The 
Ouoratissimo  e  Pregiatissimo  Signor  Conte, '  "  for  he  read 
now  from  the  address  of  a  letter  he  had  drawn  from  his 
pocket,  —  "  '  Signor  Conte  d'Amalfi,'  —  is  that  the  name  of 
the  owner  of  this  place?  " 

"No;  it  is  the  Chevalier  Butler,  formerly  minister  at 
Naples,  lives  here,  — Sir  Omerod  Bramston  Butler." 

"Ah,  then,  I  perceive  it  is  realh^  meant  for  another  per- 
son!    I  thought  it  was  a  mode  of  addressing  him  secretly. 
The  Count  of  Amalfi  lives  here,  perhaps?" 
"I  never  heard  of  him." 
"Who  lives  here  besides  Sir  Omerod?" 
"My  Lady,  —  that  is,  the  Countess;  none  else." 
"Who  is  the  Countess?  Countess  of  what,  and  where?" 
"She  is  a  Milanese;  she  was  a  Brancaleone." 
"Brancaleone,  Brancaleone!  there  were  two  of  them.    One 
went   to  Mexico  with  the  Duke  of   Sommariva,  —  not  his 
wife." 

"This  is  the  other;  she  is  married  to  Sir  Omerod." 
"She   must  be  Virginia   Brancaleone,"  said    M'Caskey, 
trying  to  remember,  —  "the  same  Lord  Byron  used  to  rave 
about." 

She  nodded  an  assent,  and  he  continued,  — 
"Nini  Brancaleone  was  a  toast,  I  remember,  with  Wraxall 
and  Trelawney,  and  the  rest  of  us.     She  was  the  '  reason 
fair '  of  many  a  good  glass  of  claret  which  Byron  gave  us, 
in  those  days  before  he  became  stingy." 

"You  had  better  keep  your  memories  to  yourself  in  case 
you  meet  her,"  said  she,  warningly. 

"Miles  M'Caskey,  madam,  requires  very  little  advice  or 


378  TONY  BUTLER. 

admonition  in  a  matter  that  touches  tact  or  good  breeding." 
A  sickly  smile  of  more  than  half-derision  curled  the  woman's 
lip,  but  she  did  not  speak. 

"And  now  let  us  come  back  to  this  Count  of  Amalfi: 
who  is  he?  where  is  he?" 

''I  have  told  you  already  I  do  not  know." 

"There  was  a  time,  madam,  you  would  have  required  no 
second  intimation  that  it  was  j^our  dut}^  to  find  out." 

"Ah,  I  remember  those  words  but  too  well,"  cried  she, 
bitterly.     "Finding  out  was  my  task  for  many  a  year." 

"Well,  madam,  it  was  an  exercise  that  might  have  put  a 
fine  edge  on  your  understanding,  but,  like  some  other  ad- 
vantages of  your  station,  it  slipped  by  you  without  profit. 
I  am  generous,  madam,  and  I  forbear  to  say  more.  Tell 
me  of  these  people  here  all  that  you  know  of  them,  for  they 
are  my  more  immediate  interest  at  present." 

"  I  will  tell  you  everything,  on  the  simple  condition  that 
you  never  speak  to  me  nor  of  me  again.  Promise  me  but 
this,  Miles  M'Caske}^,  and  I  swear  to  j^ou  I  will  conceal 
nothing  that  I  know  of  them." 

"You  make  hard  terms,  madam,"  said  he,  with  a  mock 
courtesy.  "  It  is  no  small  privation  to  be  denied  the  pleas- 
ure of  3^our  agreeable  presence,  but  I  comply." 

"And  this  shall  be  our  last  meeting?  "  asked  she,  with  a 
look  of  imploring  meaning. 

"Alas,  madam,  if  it  must  be!  " 

"Take  care,"  cried  she,  suddenly;  "you  once  by  your 
mockery  drove  me  to  —  " 

"Well,  madam,  your  memory  will  perhaps  record  what 
followed.  I  shot  the  friend  who  took  up  your  cause.  Do 
you  chance  to  know  of  another  who  would  like  to  imitate 
his  fortune?" 

"Gracious  Heaven!  "  cried  she,  in  an  agony,  "has  nothing 
the  power  to  change  your  cruel  nature;  or  are  you  to  be 
hard-hearted  and  merciless  to  the  end?" 

"I  am  proud  to  say,  madam,  that  Miles  M'Caskey  comes 
of  a  house  whose  motto  is  '  Semper  M'Caskey.'  " 

A  scornful  curl  of  her  lip  seemed  to  show  what  respect 
she  felt  for  the  heraldic  allusion;  but  she  recovered  herself 
quickly,  and  said,  "  I  can  stay  no  longer.     It  is  the  hour  the 


THE  MAJOR'S  MISSION.  379 

Countess  requires  me;  but  I  will  come  back  to-morrow, 
without  you  would  let  me  buy  off  this  meeting.  Yes,  Miles, 
I  am  in  earnest;  this  misery  is  too  much  for  me.  I  have 
saved  a  little  sum,  and  I  have  it  by  me  in  gold.  You  must 
be  more  changed  than  I  can  believe,  or  you  will  be  in  want 
of  money.  You  shall  have  it  all,  every  ducat  of  it,  if  you 
only  pledge  me  your  word  never  to  molest  me,  —  never  to 
follow  me,  —  never  to  recognize  me  again !  " 

"Madam,"  said  he,  severely,  "this  menial  station  you 
have  descended  to  must  have  blunted  your  sense  of  honor 
rudely,  or  you  had  never  dared  to  make  me  such  a  proposal. 
Let  me  see  you  to-morrow,  and  for  the  last  time."  And 
haughtily  waving  his  hand,  he  motioned  to  her  to  leave; 
and  she  turned  away,  with  her  hands  over  her  face,  and 
quitted  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


THE    MAJOR  S    TRIALS. 


Major  Miles  M'Caskey  'is  not  a  foreground  figure  in  this 
our  story,  nor  have  we  any  reason  to  suppose  that  he  pos- 
sesses any  attractions  for  our  readers.  When  such  men  — 
and  there  are  such  to  be  found  on  life  's  highway —  ai-e  met 
with,  the  world  usually  gives  them  what  sailors  call  a  "  wide 
berth  and  ample  room  to  swing  in,"  sincerely  trusting  that 
they  will  soon  trip  their  anchor  and  sail  off  again.  Seeing  all 
this,  I  have  no  pretension,  nor  indeed  any  wish,  to  impose 
his  company  any  more  than  is  strictly  indispensable,  nor 
dwell  on  his  sojourn  at  the  Molo  of  Montanara.  Indeed, 
his  life  at  that  place  was  so  monotonous  and  weary  to  him- 
self, it  would  be  a  needless  cruelty  to  chronicle  it. 

The  Major,  as  we  have  once  passingly  seen,  kept  a  sort  of 
brief  journal  of  his  daily  doings ;  and  a  few  short  extracts 
from  this  will  tell  us  all  that  we  need  know  of  him.  On  a 
page  of  which  the  upper  portion  was  torn  away,  we  find  the 
following :  — 

"  Arrived  at  M on  the  6th  at  sunset.     Ruined  old  rookery. 

Open  at  land  side,  and  sea  defences  all  carried  away ;  never  could 
have  been  strongs  against  artillery.  Found  Mrs.  INI'C.  in  the  style  of 
waiting-woman  to  a  Countess  Butler,  formerly  Nini  Brancaleone.  A 
warm  interview ;  difficult  to  persuade  her  that  I  was  not  in  pursuit  of 
herself, — a  feminine  delusion  I  tried  to  dissipate.  She" — hence- 
forth it  is  thus  he  always  designates  ^Irs.  ]\rCaskey  —  "  she  avers 
that  she  knows  nothing  of  the  Count  d'  Amalfi,  nor  has  ever  seen 
him.  Went  into  a  long  story  about  Sir  Omerod  Butler,  of  whom  I 
know  more  myself.  She  pretends  that  Xini  is  married  to  him  — 
leo^ally  married  ;  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Have  my  own  suspi- 
cions that  the  title  of  Amalfi  has  been  conferred  on  B.  himself,  for  he 
lives  estranged  from  England  and  Englishmen.  Will  learn  all,  how- 
ever, before  I  leave. 


THE   MAJOR'S  TRIALS.  381 

"Roast  pigeons,  with  tomato,  a  strange  fish,  and  omelette,  with 
Capri  to  wash  it  down  ;  a  meagre  supper,  but  they  say  it  shall  be 
better  to-morrow. 

"  llh,  Wednesday.  —  Slept  soundly  and  had  a  swim ;   took  a  sea 

view  of  the  place,  but  could  see  no  one  about.     Capital  breakfast 

'  Frutli  di  luare  '  boiled  in  Rhine  wine  ;  fellow  who  waited  said  a 
favorite  dish  of  his  Excellency's,  meaning  Sir.  O.  B.  Best  chocolate 
I  ever  tasted  out  of  Paris.  Found  the  ynenu  for  dinner  on  the  treble 
all  right ;  the  wine  is  au  choix,  and  I  begin  with  La  Rose  and  La 
Veuve  Cliquot.  A  note  from  her  referring  to  something  said  last 
night ;  she  is  ill  and  cannot  see  me,  but  encloses  an  order  on  Parodi 
of  Genoa,  in  favor  of  the  nobile  Signor  il  jNIaggiore  M'Caskey.  for 
three  thousand  seven  hundred  and  forty-eight  francs,  and  a  small 
tortoise-shell  box,  containing  eighty-six  double  ducats  in  gold,  so  that 
it  would  seem  I  have  fallen  into  a  '  vral  Cali/ornie '  here.  Reflected, 
and  replied  with  a  refusal ;  a  M'Caskey  cannot  stoop  to  this.  Re- 
proved her  for  ignoring  the  character  to  whom  she  addressed  such  a 
proposal,  and  reiterated  my  remark  of  last  night,  that  she  never 
rose  to  the  level  at  which  she  could  rightly  take  in  the  native  chivalry 
of  my  nature. 

"  Inquired  if  my  presence  had  been  announced  to  Sir  O.,  and 
learned  it  had.  Orders  given  to  treat  me  with  distinguished  con- 
sideration, but  nothing  said  of  an  audience. 

"  Pigeons  again  for  supper,  with  apology  ;  quails  had  been  sent 
for  to  Messina,  and  expected  to- morrow.  Shot  at  a  champagne-flask 
in  the  sea,  and  smoked.  Sir  O.'s  tobacco  exquisite,  and  the  supply 
so  ample,  I  am  making  a  petite  provision  for  the  future. 

"  Full  moon.  Shot  at  the  camellias  out  of  my  window.  Knocked 
off  seventeen,  when  T  heard  a  sharp  cry,  — a  stray  shot,  I  suppose. 
Shut  the  casement  and  went  to  bed. 

"  Thursda?/.  —  Gardener's  boy  —  flesh  wound  in  the  calf  of  the 
leg ;  hope  Sir  O.  may  hear  of  it  and  send  for  me. 

"  A  glorious  capon  for  dinner,  stuffed  with  oysters,  —  veritable 
oysters.  Drank  j\Irs,  M'C.'s  health  in  the  impression  that  this  was 
a  polite  attention  on  her  part.     No  message  from  Sir  O. 

^'■Friday.  —  A  general  fast;  a  lentil  soup  and  a  fish;  good  but 
mea<xre  ;  took  it  out  in  wine  and  tobacco.  Had  the  gardener's  boy 
up,  and  introduced  him  to  sherry-cobbler.  The  effect  miraculous  ; 
danced  Tarantella  till  the  bandage  came  off  and  he  fainted. 

"  Saturday.  — Rain  and  wind  :  macaroni  much  smoked  ;  cook  lays 
it  on  the  chimney,  that  won  't  draw  with  a  Levant  wind.  Read  over 
my  instructions  again,  and  understand  them  as  little  as  before  : 
'You  will  hold  yourself  at  the  orders  of  the  Count  d'Amalfi  till 
further  instructions  from  this  department.'  Vague  enough  all  this  ; 
and  for  anything  I  see,  or  am  likely  to  see,  of  this  Count,  I  may  pass 


382  TONY  BUTLER. 

the  autumn  here.  Tried  to  attract  Sir  O.'s  attention  by  knocking  off 
the  oranges  at  top  of  his  wall,  and  received  intimation  to  fire  in 
some  other  direction. 

"  Sunday.  —  Don  Luigi  something  has  come  to  say  mass.  Asked 
him  to  dinner,  but  find  him  engaged  to  the  Countess.  A  dry  old 
cove,  who  evidently  knows  everything  but  will  tell  nothing;  has 
promised  to  lend  me  a  guitar  and  a  book  or  two,  in  return  for 
which  I  have  sent  down  three  bottles  of  our  host's  champagne  to  his 
reverence. 

"  Monday.  —  Lobsters. 

"  Tuesday.  —  Somebody  ill  apparently ;  much  ringing  of  bells  and 
disorder.  My  dinner  an  hour  late.  Another  appeal  from  Mrs.  M'C, 
repeating  her  former  proposal  with  greater  energy  ;  this  feminine 
insistence  provokes  me.  I  might  tell  her  that  of  the  three  women 
who  have  borne  my  name  none  but  herself  would  have  so  far  pre- 
sumed, but  I  forbear.  Pity  has  ever  been  the  weakness  of  my  nature ; 
I  feel  its  workings  even  as  I  write  this.  It  may  not  carry  me  to  the 
length  of  forgiveness,  but  I  can  compassionate  ;  I  will  send  her  this 
note  :  — 

"  '  Madam,  —  Your  prayers  have  succeeded ;  I  yield.  It  would 
not  be  generous  in  me  to  say  what  the  sacrifice  has  cost  me.  When 
a  M'Caskey  bends,  it  is  an  oak  of  the  forest  snaps  in  two.  I  make 
but  one  condition  ;  I  will  have  no  gratitude.  Keep  the  tears  that 
you  would  shed  at  my  feet  for  the  hours  of  your  solitary  sorrow. 
You  will,  see,  therefore,  that  we  are  to  meet  no  more. 

"  '  One  of  the  ducats  is  clipped  on  the  edge,  and  another  discolored 
as  by  an  acid ;  I  am  above  requiring  that  they  be  exchanged.  Noth- 
ing in  this  last  act  of  our  intercourse  shall  prevent  you  remembering 
me  as  "  Semper  M'Caskey." 

"*Your  check  should  have  specified  Parodi  &  Co.,  not  Parodi 
alone.  To  a  man  less  known  the  omission  might  give  inconvenience ; 
this  too,  however,  I  pardon.     Farewell.'  " 

It  was  evident  that  the  Major  felt  he  had  completed  this 
task  with  befitting  dignity,  for  he  stood  up  before  a  large 
glass,  and,  placing  one  hand  within  his  waistcoat,  he  gazed 
at  himself  in  a  sort  of  rapturous  veneration.  "  Y'es,"  said 
he,  thoughtfully,  "  George  Seymour  and  D'Orsay  and  my- 
self, we  were  men !  When  shall  the  world  look  upon  our 
like  again?  Each  in  his  own  style,  too,  perfectly  distinct, 
perfectly  dissimilar, —  neither  of  them,  however,  had  this,  — 
neither  had  this,"  cried  he,  as  he  darted  a  look  of  catlike 
fierceness  from  his  fiery  gray  eyes.      "  The  Princess  Metter- 


THE    MAJOR'S  TRIALS.  383 

nich  fainted  when  I  gave  her  that  glance.  She  had  the 
temerity  to  say,  'Qui  est  ce  Monsieur  M'Caskey?'  Why 
not  ask  who  is  Soult?  Who  is  Wellington?  Who  is  every- 
body? Such  is  the  ignorance  of  a  woman!  Madame  la 
princesse,"  added  he,  in  a  graver  tone,  "if  it  be  your  for- 
tune to  turn  your  footsteps  to  Montpellier,  walk  into  the 
churchyard  there,  and  see  the  tomb  of  Jules  de  Besaneon, 
late  major  of  the  8th  Cuirassiers,  and  whose  inscription  is  in 
these  few  words,  —  '  Tue  par  M'Caskey.'  I  put  up  the 
monument  myself,  for  he  was  a  brave  soldier,  and  deserved 
his  immortality." 

Though  self-admiration  was  an  attractive  pastime,  it  palled 
on  him  at  last,  and  he  sat  down  and  piled  up  the  gold  double 
ducats  in  two  tall  columns,  and  speculated  on  the  various 
pleasures  they  might  procure,  and  then  he  read  over  the 
draft  on  Parodi,  and  pictured  to  his  mind  some  more 
enjoyments,  all  of  which  were  justly  his  due,  "  for,"  as  he 
said  to  himself  aloud,  "I  have  dealt  generously  by  that 
woman." 

At  last  he  arose,  and  went  out  on  the  terrace.  It  was  a 
bright  starlit  night,  one  of  those  truly  Italian  nights  when 
the  planets  streak  the  calm  sea  with  long  lines  of  light,  and 
the  ver}'  air  seems  weary  with  its  burden  of  perfume.  Of 
the  voluptuous  enervation  that  comes  of  such  an  hour  he 
neither  knew  nor  asked  to  know.  Stillness  and  calm  to  him 
savored  only  of  death ;  he  wanted  movement,  activit}^,  ex- 
citement, life,  in  fact,  —  life  as  he  had  always  known  and 
always  liked  it.  Once  or  twice  the  suspicion  had  crossed 
his  mind  that  he  had  been  sent  on  this  distant  expedition  to 
get  rid  of  him  when  something  of  moment  was  being  done 
elsewhere.  His  inordinate  vanity  could  readily  supply  the 
reasons  for  such  a  course.  He  was  one  of  those  men  that 
in  times  of  trouble  become  at  once  famous.  "  They  call  us 
dangerous,"  said  he,  "just  as  Cromwell  was  dangerous, 
Luther  was  dangerous.  Napoleon  was  dangerous.  But  if 
we  are  dangerous,  it  is  because  we  are  driven  to  it.  Admit 
the  superiority  that  you  cannot  oppose,  yield  to  the  inlierent 
greatness  that  you  can  only  struggle  against,  and  you  will 
find  that  we  are  not  dangerous,  —  we  are  salutary." 

"Is  it  possible,"  cried  he,  aloud,  "that  this  has  been  a 


384  TONY  BUTLER. 

plot, —  that  while  I  am  here  living  this  life  of  inglorious  idle- 
ness the  great  stake  is  on  the  table, — the  game  is  begun, 
and  the  King's  crown  being  played  for?"  M'Caskey  knew 
that  whether  royalty  conquered  or  was  vanquished,  —  how- 
ever the  struggle  ended,  —  there  was  to  be  a  grand  scene  of 
pillage.  The  nobles  or  the  merchants  —  it  mattered  very 
little  which  to  him  —  were  to  pay  for  the  coming  convulsion. 
Often  and  often,  as  he  walked  the  streets  of  Naples,  had  he 
stood  before  a  magnificent  palace  or  a  great  counting-house, 
and  speculated  on  the  time  when  it  should  be  his  prerogative 
to  smash  in  that  stout  door,  and  proclaim  all  within  it  his 
own.  ''  Spolia  di  M'Caskey,"  was  the  inscription  that  he 
felt  would  defy  the  cupidity  of  the  boldest.  ' '  I  will  stand 
on  the  balcony,"  said  he,  "and  declare,  with  a  wave  of  my 
hand.  These  are  mine :  pass  on  to  other  pillage." 

The  horrible  suspicion  that  he  might  be  actually  a  prisoner 
all  this  time  gained  on  him  more  and  more,  and  he  ran- 
sacked his  mind  to  think  of  some  great  name  in  history 
wiiose  fate  resembled  his  own.  "Could  I  onl}"  assure  my- 
self of  this,"  said  he,  passionately,  "it  is  not  these  old  walls 
would  long  confine  me;  "I'd  scale  the  highest  of  them  in 
half  an  hour ;  or  I  'd  take  to  the  sea,  and  swim  round  that 
point  yonder,  —  it 's  not  two  miles  off ;  and  I  remember 
there  's  a  village  quite  close  to  it."  Though  thus  the  pros- 
pect of  escape  presented  itself  so  palpably  before  him,  he 
was  deterred  from  it  by  the  thought  that  if  no  intention  of 
forcible  detention  had  ever  existed,  the  fact  of  his  having 
feared  it  would  be  an  indelible  stain  upon  his  courage. 
"  What  an  indignity,"  thought  he,  "  for  a  M'Caskey  to 
have  yielded  to  a  causeless  dread !  " 

As  he  thus  thought,  he  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  a  dark 
object  at  some  short  distance  off  on  the  sea.  He  strained 
his  eyes,  and,  though  long  in  doubt,  at  last  assured  himself 
it  was  a  boat  that  had  drifted  from  her  moorings,  for  the 
rope  that  had  fastened  her  still  hung  over  the  stern,  and 
trailed  in  the  sea.  By  the  slightly  moving  flow  of  the  tide 
towards  shore  she  came  gradually  nearer,  till  at  last  he  was 
able  to  reach  her  with  the  crook  of  his  riding-wliip,  and 
draw  her  up  to  the  steps.  Her  light  paddle-like  oars  were 
on  board ;  and  M'Caskey  stepped  in,  determined  to  make  a 


THE  MAJOR'S  TRIALS.  385 

patient  and  careful  study  of  the  place  on  its  sea-front,  and 
see,  if  lie  could,  whether  it  were  more  of  chateau  or  jail. 

With  noiseless  motion  he  stole  smoothly  along,  till  he 
passed  a  little  ruined  bastion  on  a  rocky  point,  and  saw 
himself  at  the  entrance  of  a  small  bay,  at  the  extremity  of 
which  a  blaze  of  light  poured  forth,  and  illuminated  the  sea 
for  some  distance.  As  he  got  nearer,  he  saw  that  the  light 
came  from  three  large  windows  that  opened  on  a  terrace, 
thickly  studded  with  orange-trees,  under  the  cover  of  which 
he  could  steal  on  unseen,  and  take  an  observation  of  all 
within ;  for  that  the  room  was  inhabited  was  plain  enough, 
one  figure  continuing  to  cross  and  recross  the  windows  as 
M'Caskey  drew  nigh. 

Stilly  and  softly,  without  a  ripple  beliind  him,  he  glided 
on  till  the  light  skiff  stole  under  the  overhanging  boughs  of 
a  large  acacia,  over  a  branch  of  which  he  passed  his  rope 
to  steady  the  boat,  and  then  standing  up  he  looked  into  the 
room,  now  so  close  as  almost  to  startle  him. 


25 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

EAVESDROPPING. 

If  M'Caskey  was  actually  startled  by  the  vicinity  in  which 
he  suddenly  found  himself  to  the  persons  within  the  room,  he 
was  even  more  struck  by  the  tone  of  the  voice  which  now 
met  his  ear.  It  was  Norman  Maitland  who  spoke,  and  he 
recognized  him  at  once.  Pacing  the  large  room  in  its  length, 
he  passed  before  the  windows  quite  close  to  where  M'Caskey 
stood,  — so  close,  indeed,  that  he  could  mark  the  agitation 
on  his  features,  and  note  the  convulsive  twitchings  that 
shook  his  cheek. 

The  other  occupant  of  the  room  was  a  lady  ;  but  M'Caskey 
could  only  see  the  heavy  folds  of  her  dark  velvet  dress  as 
she  sat  apart,  and  so  distant  that  he  could  not  hear  her 
voice. 

"  So,  then,  it  comes  to  this!  "  said  Maitland,  stopping  in 
his  walk  and  facing  where  she  sat:  "I  have  made  this 
wearisome  journey  for  nothing !  Would  it  not  have  been 
as  easy  to  say  he  would  not  see  me?  It  was  no  pleasure  to 
me  to  travel  some  hundred  miles  and  be  told  at  the  end  of  it 
I  had  come  for  nothing." 

She  murmured  something  inaudible  to  M'Caske}^  but  to 
which  Maitland  quickly  answered  :  "I  know  all  that;  but 
why  not  let  me  hear  this  from  his  own  lips,  and  let  Mm 
hear  what  I  can  reply  to  it?  He  will  tell  me  of  the  vast 
sums  I  have  squandered  and  the  heavy  debts  I  have  con- 
tracted ;  and  I  would  tell  him  that  in  following  his  rash 
counsels  T  have  dissipated  years  that  would  have  won  me 
distinction  in  any  land  of  Europe." 

Again  she  spoke ;  but  before  she  uttered  many  words  he 
broke  suddenly  in  with,  "No,  no,  no!  ten  thousand  times 
no !     I  knew  the  monarchy  was  rotten  —  rotten  to  the  very 


EAVESDROPPING.  387 

core;  but  I  said,  Better  to  die  in  the  street  a  cJieval  than 
behind  the  arras  on  one's  knees.  Have  it  out  with  the 
scoundrels,  and  let  the  best  man  win,  —  that  was  the  advice 
/gave.  Ask  Caraffa,  ask  Filangieri,  ask  Acton,  if  I  did 
not  always  say,  '  If  the  king  is  not  ready  to  do  as  much  for 
his  crown  as  the  humblest  peasant  would  for  his  cabin,  let 
him  abdicate  at  once.'  " 

She  murmured  something,  and  he  interrupted  her  with : 
"  Because  I  never  did  —  never  would  —  and  never  will  trust 
to  priestcraft.  All  the  intrigues  of  the  Jesuits,  all  the  craft 
of  the  whole  College  of  Cardinals,  will  not  bring  back  con- 
fidence in  the  monarchy.  But  why  do  I  talk  of  these  things 
to  you  ?  Go  back  and  ask  him  to  see  me.  Say  that  I  have 
many  things  to  tell  him  ;  say  "  —  and  here  the  mockery  of 
his  voice  became  conspicuous —  "  that  I  would  wish  much  to 
have  his  advice  on  certain  points. — And  why  not?"  cried 
he  aloud  to  something  she  said;  "  has  my  new  nobility  no 
charm  for  him?  Well,  then,  I  am  ready  to  strike  a  bargain 
with  him.  I  owe  Caffarelli  two  hundred  and  eight}^  thou- 
sand francs,  which  I  mean  to  pay,  if  I  take  to  the  highway 
to  do  it.  Hush !  don't  interrupt  me.  I  am  not  asking  he 
should  pay  this  for  me,  —  all  I  want  is  that  he  will  enable 
me  to  sell  that  villa  which  he  gave  me  some  3^ears  ago 
beyond  Caserta.  Yes,  the  Torricella ;  I  know  all  that,  —  it 
was  a  royal  present.  It  never  had  the  more  value  in  my 
eyes  for  that ;  and  perhaps  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when 
the  right  to  it  may  be  disputed.  Let  him  make  out  my  title, 
such  as  it  is,  so  that  I  can  sell  it.  There  are  Jews  who  will 
surely  take  it  at  one- half  its  worth.  Get  him  to  consent  to 
this,  and  I  am  ready  to  pledge  my  word  that  he  has  seen  the 
last  of  me." 

"  He  gave  it  to  you  as  a  wedding-present,  Norman,"  said 
she,  haughtih^ ;  and  now  her  deep-toned  voice  rung  out  clear 
and  strong ;  "  and  it  will  be  an  unpardonable  offence  to  ask 
him  this." 

"  Have  I  not  told  you  that  I  shall  not  need  forgiveness,  — 
that  with  this  act  all  ends  between  us?  " 

"I  will  be  no  party  to  this,"  said  she,  haughtily;  and  she 
arose  and  walked  out  upon  the  terrace.  As  she  passed,  the 
lamplight   flared   strongly  on   her   features,  and  M'Caskey 


388  TONY  BUTLER. 

saw  a  face  he  had  once  known  well ;  but  what  a  change  was 
there !  The  beautiful  Nini  Brancaleone,  the  dark-haued 
Norma,  the  belle  that  Byron  used  to  toast  with  an  enthu- 
siasm of  admiration,  was  a  tall  woman  advanced  in  years, 
and  with  two  masses  of  snow-white  hair  on  either  side  of  a 
pale  face.  The  dark  eyes,  indeed,  flashed  brightly  still,  and 
the  eyebrows  were  dark  as  of  yore  ;  but  the  beautifully  formed 
rnouth  was  hard  and  thin-lipped,  and  the  fair  brow  marked 
with  many  a  strong  line  of  pain. 

"You  forget,  perhaps,"  said  she,  after  a  short  pause, — 
"  you  forget  that  it  is  from  this  villa  I  take  my  title.  1  am 
Brancaleone  della  Torricella,  and  I  forfeit  the  name  when  it 
leaves  our  hands." 

"And  do  you  hold  to  this,  mother?"  asked  he,  in  a  voice 
of  sorrow,  through  which  something  of  scorn  was  detectable. 

"Do  I  hold  to  it?  Of  course  I  hold  to  it!  You  know 
w^ell  the  value  it  has  in  his  eyes.  AVithout  it  he  never  would 
have  consented  — "  She  stopped  suddenW,  and  seemed  to 
catch  herself  in  time  to  prevent  the  utterance  of  some  rash 
avowal.  "As  it  is,"  added  she,  "he  told  me  so  late  as 
yesterday  that  he  has  no  rest  nor  peace,  thinking  over  his 
brother's  son,  and  the  great  wrong  he  has  done  him." 

"Let  him  think  of  the  greater  wrong  he  has  done  me !  — 
of  my  youth  that  he  has  wasted,  and  my  manhood  lost  and 
shipwrecked.  But  for  him  and  his  weak  ambition,  I  had 
belonged  to  a  party  who  would  have  prized  m}'  ability  and 
rewarded  my  courage.  I  would  not  find  m^^self  at  thirty 
brigaded  with  a  set  of  low-hearted  priests  and  seminarists, 
w^io  have  no  other  weapons  than  treacher3%  nor  any  strategy 
but  lies.  If  I  have  squandered  his  fortune,  he  has  beggared 
me  in  reputation.  He  does  not  seem  to  remember  these 
things.  As  to  him  whom  he  would  prefer  to  me  and  make 
his  heir,  I  have  seen  him." 

"You  have  seen  him,  Norman!  "When? — wTiere?  — 
how  ?  "  cried  she,  in  wild  impatience. 

"  Yes,  I  even  had  a  plan  to  let  the  uncle  meet  his  promis- 
ing nephew.  I  speculated  on  bringing  together  two  people 
more  made  for  mutual  detestation  than  any  other  two  in 
Europe." 

"  It  would  have  been  a  rash  venture,"  said  she,  fiercely. 


EAVESDROPPING.  389 

''  If  you  mean  for  ?/u^,  that  was  the  very  reason  I  thought 
of  it.  What  other  game  than  the  rash  one  is  open  to  a  man 
liJie  7/ie?" 

"Who  ever  had  the  safer  road  to  fortune  if  he  could 
have  walked  with  the  commonest  prudence?"  said  she, 
bitterly. 

"  How  can  you  say  that?  Talk  of  prudence  to  the  man 
who  has  no  fortune,  no  family,  not  even  a  name,  —  no !  " 
cried  he,  fiercely ;  for  by  the  first  Maitland  I  met  I  might  be 
challenged  to  say  from  what  stock  I  came.  He  could  have 
saved  me  from  all  this.  Nothing  was  ever  easier.  You 
yourself  asked,  —  ay,  begged  this.  You  told  me  you 
begged  it  on  your  knees;  and  I  own,  if  I  never  forgave  him 
for  refusing,  I  have  never  forgiven  you  for  the  entreaty." 

"And  I  would  do  it  again  to-da^M  "  cried  she,  passion- 
'atel}^  "Let  him  but  acknowledge  you,  Norman,  and  he 
may  turn  me  out  upon  the  world  houseless  and  a  beggar,  and 
I  will  bless  him  for  it !  " 

"What  a  curse  is  on  the  bastard,"  broke  he  out,  in  a 
savage  vehemence,  "if  it  robs  him  of  every  rightful  senti- 
ment, and  poisons  even  a  mother's  love !  Do  not  talk  to  me 
this  way,  or  you  will  drive  me  mad !  " 

"  Oh,  Xorman !  my  dear,  dear  Norman!  "  cried  she,  pas- 
sionately ;   "  it  is  not  yet  too  late." 

"  Too  late  for  what?  " 

"  Not  too  late  to  gain  back  his  favor.  When  he  saw  the 
letter  in  the  King's  hand,  calling  you  Count  of  Amalfi,  he 
said  :  '  This  looks  ill  for  the  monarchy.  I  have  a  Scotch 
earldom  nn^self  in  my  family  granted  by  another  king  tlie 
day  after  he  had  lost  his  own  crown.'  Try,  then,  if  yon 
cannot  rally  to  the  cause  those  men  who  are  so  much  under 
your  influence  that  as  you  have  often  told  me  they  only 
wanted  to  be  assured  of  your  devotion  to  pledge  their  own. 
If  he  could  believe  the  cause  triumphant,  there  is  nothing  he 
would  not  do  to  uphold  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  thoughtfully,  "  there  never  lived  the  man 
who  more  worshipped  success !  The  indulgences  that  he 
heaped  upon  myself  were  merely  offerings  to  a  career  of 
insolent  triumph," 

"  You  never  loved  him,  Norman,"  said  she,  sadly. 


390  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Love  had  no  share  in  the  compact  between  us.  He 
wanted  to  maintain  a  cause  which,  if  successful,  must  ex- 
clude from  power  in  England  the  men  who  had  insulted  him, 
and  turned  him  out  of  office.  I  wanted  some  one  who  could 
afford  to  pay  my  debts,  and  leave  me  free  to  contract  more. 
But  why  talk  to  you  about  these  intrigues  ?  —  Once  more, 
will  he  see  me  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  slowlj^  in  dissent.  "Could  you  not 
write  to  him,  Norman?"  said  she  at  last. 

"  I  will  not  write  to  a  man  under  the  same  roof  as  myself. 
I  have  some  news  for  him,"  added  he,  "if  he  cares  to  buy 
it  by  an  audience ;  for  I  suppose  he  would  make  it  an  audi- 
ence ;  "  and  the  last  word  he  gave  with  deep  scorn. 

"Let  me  bring  him  the  tidings." 

"  No,  he  shall  hear  them  from  myself,  or  not  hear  them 
at  all.  I  want  this  villa!"  cried  he,  passionately,  —  "T 
want  the  title  to  sell  it,  and  pay  off  a  debt  that  is  crushing 
me.  Go,  then,  and  say  I  have  something  of  importance 
enough  to  have  brought  me  down  some  hundred  miles  to  tell 
him,  something  that  deeply  concerns  the  cause  he  cares  for, 
and  to  which  his  counsel  would  be  invaluable." 

"And  this  is  true?" 

"Did  I  ever  tell  you  a  falsehood,  mother?"  asked  he,  in 
a  voice  of  deep  and  sorrowful  meaning. 

"I  will  go,"  said  she,  after  a  few  moments  of  thought, 
and  left  the  room.  Maitland  took  a  bottle  of  some  essenced 
water  from  the  table  and  bathed  his  forehead.  He  had  been 
more  agitated  than  he  cared  to  confess ;  and  now  that  he 
was  alone,  and,  as  he  believed  unobserved,  his  features  be- 
trayed a  deep  depression.  As  he  sat  with  his  head  leaning 
on  both  hands,  the  door  opened.  "  Come,"  said  she,  gently, 
—  "come!  "  He  arose,  and  followed  her.  No  sooner  was 
all  quiet  around  than  M'Caskey  rowed  swiftly  back  to  his 
quarters,  and,  packing  up  hastily  his  few  effects,  made  with 
all  speed  for  the  little  bay,  where  was  the  village  he  had 
passed  on  his  arrival,  and  through  which  led  the  road  to 
Reggio.  That  something  was  "up"  at  Naples  he  was  now 
certain,  and  he  resolved  to  be  soon  on  the  field ;  whoever 
the  victors,  they  would  want  him. 

On  the  third  evening  he  entered  the  capital,  and  made 


/^      ^       OF    THE  A 

I   UNIVERSITY  J 
'-<.£4tl£2£a^^     EAVESDROPPING. 


391 


straight  for  Caffarelli's  house.  He  met  the  Count  in  the 
doorway.  "The  man  I  wanted,"  said  he,  as  he  saw  the 
Major.     "  Go  into  my  study  and  wait  for  me." 

"  What  has  happened?  "  asked  M'Caskey,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Everything.     The  King  is  dead." 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


MARK    LYLE  S    LETTER. 


The  following  letter  was  received  at  Lyle  Abbey  shortly  after 
the  events  recorded  in  our  last  chapter  had  happened.  It  was 
from  Mark  Lyle  to  his  sister,  Mrs.  Trafford :  — 

"  Hotel  Victoria,  Naples. 

"  My  dear  Alice,  — AVhile  I  was  cursing  my  bad  luck  at  being  too 
late  for  the  P.  and  O.  steamer  at  Marseilles,  your  letter  arrived  deciding 
me  to  come  on  here.  Nothing  was  ever  more  fortunate  :  first  of  all,  I 
shall  be  able  to  catch  the  Austrian  Lloyds  at  Ancona,  and  reach  Alex- 
andria in  good  time  for  the  mail ;  and,  secondly,  1  have  perfectly  suc- 
ceeded —  at  least  I  hope  so  —  in  the  commission  you  gave  me.  For 
five  mortal  days  I  did  nothiiig  but  examine  villas.  I  got  a  list  of  full 
fifty,  but  in  the  course  of  a  little  time  the  number  filtered  down  to 
ten  possible,  and  came  at  last  to  three  that  one  could  pronounce 
fairly  habitable.  To  have  health  in  this  climate  —  that  is  to  say,  to 
escape  malaria  —  you  must  abjure  vegetation ;  and  the  only  way  to 
avoid  tertian  is  to  book  yourself  for  a  sunstroke.  These  at  least 
were  my  experiences  up  to  Tuesday  last,  for  all  the  salubrious  spots 
along  tbe  seashore  had  been  long  since  seized  on  either  by  the  King 
or  the  Church,  and  every  lovely  point  of  view  was  certain  to  be 
crowned  by  a  royal  villa  or  a  monastery.  I  was  coming  back  then 
on  Tuesday,  very  disconsolate  indeed  from  a  long  day's  fruitless 
search,  when  I  saw  a  perfect  gem  of  a  place  standing  on  the  extreme 
point  of  a  promontory  near  Caserta.  It  was  of  course  '  royal '  —  at 
least  it  belonged  to  a  Count  d'Amalfi,  which  title  was  borne  by  some 
younger  branch  of  the  Bourbons ;  yet  as  it  was  untenanted,  and 
several  people  were  working  in  the  gardens,  I  ventured  in  to  have  a 
look  at  it.  I  will  not  attempt  description,  but  just  say  that  both 
within  and  without  it  realizes  all  I  ever  dreamed  or  imagined  of  an 
Italian  villa.  Marble  and  frescos  and  fountains,  terraces  descend- 
ing to  the  sea,  and  gardens  a  wilderness  of  orange  and  magnolia,  and 
grand  old  rooms,  the  very  air  of  which  breathed  splendor  and  mag- 
nificence ;  but  a  quoi  hon  f  dear  Alice.     It  was  a  palazzotto  reale,  and 


MARK  LYLE'S  LETTER.  393 

one  could  only  gaze  enviously  at  delights  they  could  not  hope  to 
compass. 

"  Seeing  my  intense  admiration  of  the  place,  the  man  who  showed 
me  around  it  said,  as  I  was  coming  away,  that  it  was  rumored  that 
the  Count  would  not  be  indisposed  to  sell  the  property.  I  know 
enough  of  Italians  to  be  aware  that  when  a  stranger  supposed  to  be 
rich :  all  English  are  in  this  category  —  is  struck  with  anything  — 
picture,  house,  or  statue  —  the  owner  will  always  part  with  it  at  ten- 
fold its  value.  Half  out  of  curiosity,  half  to  give  myself  the  pretext 
for  another  morning's  ramble  over  the  delicious  place,  I  asked  where 
I  could  learn  any  det:ails  as  to  the  value,  and  received  an  address  as 
follows:  'Count  Carlo  Caffarelli,  Villino  del  Boschetto,  Chiaja, 
^Naples.'  Caffarelli  I  at  once  remembered  as  the  name  of  Maitland's 
friend,  and  in  this  found  another  reason  for  calling  on  him,  since  I 
had  totaUy  failed  in  all  my  attempts  to  discover  M.  either  in  London, 
Paris,  or  even  here. 

"  The  same  evening  I  went  there,  and  found  Count  Caffarelli  in 
one  of  those  fairy-tale  httle  palaces  which  this  country  abounds  in. 
He  had  some  friends  at  dinner,  but  on  reading  my  name,  recognized 
me,  and  came  out  with  a  most  charming  politeness  to  press  me  to 
join  his  party.  It  was  no  use  refusing ;  the  Italian  persuasiveness 
has  that  element  of  the  irresistible  about  it  that  one  cannot  oppose; 
and  I  soon  found  myself  smoking  my  cigar  in  a  company  of  half  a 
dozen  people  who  treated  me  as  an  intimate  friend. 

"  I  may  amuse  you  some  day  by  some  of  the  traits  of  their  ho7i- 
homie.  I  must  now  confine  myself  to  our  more  immediate  interests. 
Caffarelli.  when  he  found  that  I  wanted  some  information  about  the 
villa,  drew  his  arm  within  my  own,  and.  taking  me  away  from  the 
rest,  told  me  in  strictest  confidence  that  the  villa  was  jNIaitland's,  — 
Maitland  being  the  Conte  d'Amalfi,  —  the  title  having  ])een  con- 
ferred by  the  late  King,  one  of  the  very  last  acts  of  his  life. 

*' '  And  Maitland,'  said  I,  scarcely  recovering  from  my  astonish- 
ment ;  'where  is  he  now?  ' 

"  '  Within  a  few  yards  of  you,'  said  he,  turning  and  pointing  to  the 
closed  jalousies  of  a  room  that  opened  on  a  small  separately  enclosed 
garden  ;  '  he  is  there.' 

"  There  was  something  like  secrecy,  mystery  at  least,  in  his  man- 
ner as  he  said  this,  that  prevented  my  speaking  for  a  moment,  and 
he  went  on  :  '  Yes,  Maitland  is  in  that  room,  stretched  on  his  bed. 
poor  fellow;  he  has  been  severely  wounded  in  a  duel  which,  had  I 
been  here,  should  never  have  been  foucrht.  All  this,  remember,  is  in 
confidence;  for  it  is  needless  to  tell  you  Maitland  is  one  of  those  men 
who  hate  being  made  gossip  of  ;  and  I  really  believe  that  his  wound 
never  gave  him  one-half  the  pain  that  he  felt  at  the  bare  jiossibility 
of  his  adventure  beinj;  made  town-talk.     So  well  have  we  managed 


394  TONY  BUTLER. 

hitherto,  that  of  the  men  you  see  here  to-night  —  all  of  them  intimate 
Tvith  him  —  one  only  knows  that  his  illness  is  not  a  malaria 
fever.' 

"  '  But  can  you  answer  for  the  same  prudence  and  reserve  on  the 
part  of  the  other  principal  ?  ' 

"  '  We  have  secured  it,  for  the  time  at  least,  by  removing  him 
from  Naples  ;  and  as  the  laws  here  are  very  severe  against  duelling, 
his  own  safety  will  suggest  silence.' 

"  '  Do  you  think  Maitland  would  see  me  ? ' 

" '  I  suppose  he  will  be  delighted  to  see  you  ;  but  I  will  ascertain 
that  without  letting  him  know  that  I  have  already  told  you  he  was 
here.  Remember,  too,  if  he  should  receive  you,  drop  nothing  about 
the  duel  or  the  wound.  Allude  to  his  illness  as  fever,  and  leave  to 
himself  entirely  the  option  of  telling  you  the  true  story  or  not.' 

"  After  a  few  more  words  of  caution  —  less  needed,  if  he  only  had 
known  how  thoroughly  I  understood  his  temper  and  disposition  — 
he  left  me.  He  was  back  again  in  less  than  five  minutes,  and,  taking 
me  by  the  arm,  led  me  to  Maitland's  door.  '  There,'  said  he,  '  go 
in  !  he  expects  you.' 

"  It  was  only  after  a  few  seconds  that  I  could  see  my  way  through 
the  half-darkened  room,  but,  guided  by  a  weak  voice  saying,  '  Come 
on  —  here,'  I  approached  a  bed,  on  the  outside  of  which,  in  a  loose 
dressin2:-gown,  the  poor  fellow  lay. 

"  '  You  find  it  hard  to  recognize  me,  Lyle,'  said  he,  with  an  at- 
tempt to  smile  at  the  amazement  which  I  could  not  by  any  effort  re- 
press ;  for  he  was  wasted  to  a  shadow,  his  brown  cheeks  were  sunken 
and  sallow,  and  his  dark  flashing  eyes  almost  colorless. 

"  '  And  yet,'  added  he,  '  the  doctor  has  just  been  complimenting 
me  on  my  improved  looks.  It  seems  I  was  more  horrible  yesterday.' 
I  don't  remember  what  I  said,  but  he  thanked  me  and  pressed  my 
hand,  —  a  great  deal  from  him,  for  he  is  not  certainly  demonstrative  ; 
and  then  he  pressed  me  to  tell  about  you  all,  —  how  you  were,  and 
what  doing.  He  inquired  so  frequently,  and  recurred  so  often  to 
Bella,  that  I  almost  suspected  something  between  them,  —  though, 
after  all,  I  ought  to  have  known  that  this  was  a  conquest  above 
Bella's  reach,  —  the  man  who  might  any  day  choose  from  the  highest 
in  Europe. 

" '  Now  a  little  about  yourself,  Maitland,'  said  I.  '  How  long 
have  you  been  ill  ?  ' 

"  '  This  is  the  seventeenth  day,'  said  he,  sighing.  *  Caffarelli  of 
course  told  you  fever  —  but  here  it  is; '  and  he  turned  on  his  side  and 
showed  me  a  great  mass  of  appliances  and  bandages.  '  I  have  been 
wounded.  I  went  out  with  a  fellow  whom  none  of  my  friends  would 
consent  to  my  meeting,  and  I  was  obliged  to  take  my  valet  Fenton 
for  my  second,  and  he,  not  much  versed  in  these  matters,  accepted 


MARK  LYLE'S  LETTER.  395 

the  Neapolitan  sword  instead  of  the  French  one.  I  had  not  touched 
one  these  eight  years.  At  all  events,  my  antagonist  was  an  expert 
swordsman,  —  I  suspect,  in  this  style  of  fencing,  more  than  my  ecjual; 
he  certainly  was  cooler,  and  took  a  thrust  I  gave  him  through  the 
fore-arm  without  ever  owning  he  was  wounded  till  he  saw  me  fall.' 

"  '  Plucky  fellow,'  muttered  I. 

"  '  Yes,  pluck  he  has,  unquestionably  ;  nor  did  he  behave  badly 
when  all  was  over,  for  though  it  was  as  much  as  his  neck  was  worth 
to  do  it,  he  offered  to  support  me  in  the  carriage  all  the  way  back  to 
Naples.' 

"  '  That  was  a  noble  offer,'  said  I. 

"  '  And  there  never  was  a  less  noble  antagonist ! '  cried  Maitland, 
•with  a  bitter  laugh,  '  Indeed,  if  it  ever  should  get  abroad  that  I 
crossed  swords  with  him,  it  would  go  near  to  deny  me  the  power  of 
demanding  a  similar  satisfaction  from  one  of  my  own  rank  to-mor- 
row. Do  not  ask  me  who  he  is,  Lyle  ;  do  not  question  me  about  the 
quarrel  itself.  It  is  the  thinking,  the  brooding  over  these  things  as 
I  lie  here,  that  makes  this  bed  a  torture  to  me.  The  surgeon  and 
his  probes  are  not  pleasant  visitors,  but  I  welcome  them  when  they 
divert  my  thoughts  from  these  musings.' 

"  I  did  ray  best  to  rally  him,  and  get  him  to  talk  of  the  future, 
when  he  should  be  up  and  about  again.  I  almost  thought  I  had 
done  him  some  little  good,  when  Caifarelli  came  in  to  warn  me  that 
the  doctors  were  imperative  against  his  receiving  any  visitors,  and  I 
had  been  there  then  full  two  hours  ! 

'"I  have  told  Lyle,'  said  he,  as  we  were  leaving  the  room,  'that 
you  must  let  him  come  and  see  me  to-morrow ;  there  are  other  things 
I  want  to  talk  over  with  him.' 

"  It  was  high  time  I  should  have  left  him,  for  his  fever  was  now 
coming  on,  and  Caffarelli  told  me  that  he  raved  throughout  the 
whole  night,  and  talked  incessantly  of  places  which,  even  in  a  foreign 
pronunciation,  I  knew  to  be  in  our  own  neighborhood  in  Ireland. 
The  next  day  I  was  not  admitted  to  see  him.  The  day  after  that  I 
was  only  suffered  to  pass  a  few  minutes  beside  his  bed,  on  condi- 
tion, too,  that  he  should  not  be  allowed  to  speak ;  and  to-day,  as  it 
is  my  last  in  Naples,  I  have  been  with  him  for  above  an  hour.  I  am 
certain,  my  dear  Alice,  that  there  is  something  at  least  in  my  sus- 
picion about  Bella,  from  what  took  place  to-day.  Hearing  that  I 
was  obliged  to  leave  to-night  to  catch  the  steamer  at  Ancona,  he 
said,  '  Lyle,  I  shall  want  a  few  minutes  with  you,  alone,  though, 
before  you  leave.'  He  said  this  because  either  the  doctor  or  Caffa- 
relli, or  both,  have  been  with  us  since  our  first  meeting.  '  Don't 
look  gloomy,  old  fellow,'  he  added  ;  '  I  'm  not  going  to  speak  about 
my  will,  it  is  rather  of  life  I  mean  to  talk,  and  what  to  do  with 
life  to  make  it  worth  living  for.     Meanwhile  Caffarelli  has  been  tell- 


396  TONY  BUTLER. 

ing  me  of  your  hunt  after  a  villa.     There  is  mine,  — the  Torricella, 

—  take  it.  Carlo  says  you  were  greatly  struck  with  it ;  and  as  it  is 
really  pretty,  and  inhabitable  too,  —  a  thing  rare  enough  with  villas, 

—  I  insist  upon  your  offering  it  to  your  family.  There's  a  sort  of 
summer-house  or  "  Belvedere  "  on  the  extreme  point  of  the  rock,  with 
half  a  dozen  little  rooms;  I  shall  keep  that  for  myself ;  but  tell  Lady 
Lyle  I  shall  not  be  a  troublesome  visitor.  It  will  be  the  rarest  of  all 
events  to  see  me  tljere,  for  I  shall  not  be  long  in  Italy.'  I  was  eager 
to  ask  why,  or  whither  he  was  turning  his  steps,  but  he  was  never 
one  to  stand  much  questioning,  and  in  his  present  state  it  would  have 
been  dangerous  to  cross  him.  By  way  of  saying  something  —  any- 
thing at  the  moment  —  I  asked  how  were  things  going  on  here  politi- 
cally. He  laughed  his  usual  little  quiet  laugh,  and  called  out  to 
Caffarelli,  who  stood  in  the  window.  'Come  here,  Carlo,  and  tell 
Lyle  how  we  are  getting  on  here.  He  wants  to  know  if  the  ammu- 
nition has  been  yet  served  out  for  the  bombardment ;  or  are  you 
waiting  for  the  barricades?  '  He  jumped  up  in  his  bed  as  he, spoke, 
and  then  fell  back  again.  The  doctor  ran  hastily  over,  and  cried, 
out,  '  That 's  exactly  what  I  said  would  come  of  it.  There  's  haemor- 
rhage again.'  And  so  we  were  turned  out  of  the  room,  and  the  other 
doctors  were  speedily  summoned,  and  it  was  only  an  hour  ago  I 
heard  that  he  was  going  on  favorably  ;  but  that  in  future  a  strict 
interdict  should  be  put  upon  all  visits,  and  none  admitted  to  him  but 
his  physicians.  Seeing  this,  there  was  no  use  deferi-ing  my  departure, 
which  would,  besides,  place  my  commission  in  jeopardy.  I  have 
already  outstayed  my  leave  by  two  mails. 

"  Caffarelli  is  to  write  to  you  about  the  villa,  and  take  all  your 
directions  about  getting  it  in  order  for  your  arrival.  He  says  that 
there  is  only  too  much  furniture ;  and  as  there  are  something  like 
eighty  odd  rooms,  —  it  is  called  Palazzotto,  a  grand  word  for  palace,  — 
the  chances  are  that  even  you  will  have  space  enough  for  what  you 
call  '  to  turn  round  in,'  I  am  in  no  dread  of  your  being  disappointed 
in  it,  and  I  repeat  once  more,  it  is  the  most  exquisitely  beautiful  spot 
I  ever  saw.  I  would  rather  own  it  tlian  its  larger  brother,  the  great 
kingly  palace  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  bay. 

"  1  left  my  card  at  the  Legation  for  your  friend  ^Ir.  Damer,  but 
he  has  not  returned  my  visit.  I  own  I  had  no  peculiar  anxiety  to 
know  him.  ]\laitland  could  only  say  that  he  '  was  not  an  ill-natured 
fellow,  and  perhaps  a  shade  smarter  than  his  colleagues.' 

"  Caffarelli  promises  to  keep  you  informed  about  poor  ]\Iaitland, 
of  whom,  notwithstanding  all  the  doctors  say,  T  do  not  augur  too 
favorably.  On  every  account,  whether  you  really  avail  yourself  of 
it  or  not,  do  not  refuse  his  offer  of  the  villa ;  it  would  give  him  the 
deepest  pain  and  mortification,  knowing  how  T  had  fixed  upon  it 
before  I  heard  of  his  being  the  owner.     I  am  very  sorry  to  leave 


MARK  LYLE'S  LETTER.  397 

him,  and  sorrier  that  I  have  not  heard  what  he  was  so  eager  to  tell 
me.  I  shall  be  very  impatient  till  I  hear  from  you,  and  know 
whether  you  concur  in  my  conjecture  or  not. 

"  The  King  sent  twice  to-day  to  inquire  after  M.,  and  has  already 
announced  his  intention  to  come  in  person,  so  soon  as  the  doctors 
deem  such  a  visit  safe.  To  see  the  names  that  were  left  to-day  with 
the  porter  you  would  say  it  was  one  of  the  first  men  in  Europe  was 
causing  all  this  public  anxiety. 

"  I  trust,  my  dear  Alice,  you  will  be  satisfied  with  this  long-winded 
epistle,  —  the  last  probably  you  will  get  from  me  till  I  reach  Calcutta. 
I  had  intended  to  have  given  you  all  the  gossip  of  this  pleasant 
place,  which,  even  on  the  verge,  as  some  think,  of  a  revolution,  has 
time  and  to  spare  for  its  social  delinquencies  ;  but  Maitland  has  so 
engrossed  my  thoughts  that  he  has  filled  my  letter ;  and  yet  I  have 
not  told  you  one  tithe  of  what  I  have  heard  about  him  from  his 
friend  Caffarelli.  Indeed,  in  his  estimation,  M.  has  no  equal  living; 
he  is  not  alone  the  cleverest,  boldest,  and  most  accomplished  of  men, 
but  the  truest  and  the  best-hearted.  I  sat  late  into  the  night  last 
night  listening  to  traits  of  his  generosity,  —  the  poor  people  he  had 
helped,  the  deserving  creatures  he  had  succored,  and  the  ear- 
nest way  he  had  pressed  claims  on  the  ^Ministry  for  wretched  families 
who  had  been  friendless  without  him.  I  was  dying  to  ask  other 
questions  about  him,  but  I  did  not  venture,  and  yet  the  man  puzzles 
me  more  than  ever.  Once,  indeed,  Caffarelli  seemed  on  the  verge  of 
telling  me  something.  I  had  asked  what  Maitland  meant  by  saving 
that  he  should  probably  soon  quit  Italy  ?  '  Ah,'  replied  Caffarelli, 
laughing,  '  then  he  has  told  you  of  that  mad  scheme  of  his  ;  but  of  all 
things  in  the  world,  why  go  into  the  service  of  a  Bey  of  Tunis  ?' 
'  A  Bey  of  Tunis  ! '  cried  I,  in  such  evident  astonishment  as  showed 
I  had  heard  of  the  project  for  the  first  time.  '  Of  course  it  was  but 
a  jest,'  said  Caffarelli,  catching  himself  up  quickly.  *  The  present 
Bey  and  Maitland  lived  together  in  Paris  in  their  early  days ;  and  I 
have  seen  scores  of  letters  entreating  Maitland  to  come  to  Tunis, 
and  offering  him  the  command  of  a  division,  the  place  of  a  ]Minis- 
ter,  —  anything,  in  fact,  that  might  be  supposed  to  tempt  him. 
You  may  imagine  yourself  how  likely  it  is  that  a  man  with  all 
Europe  at  his  feet  would  consent  to  finish  his  life  in  an  African 
banishment.' 

•'  If  I  could  only  have  one  week  more  here,  T  feel  certain  that 
Caffarelli  would  tell  me  everything  that  I  want  to  learn,  but  I  must 
up  and  away.  My  servant  is  already  hurrying  down  my  baggage, 
and  I  have  not  more  time  than  to  send  my  loves  to  you  all. 

"  Yours  always, 

♦'  Mark  Lyle. 


398  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  P.  S.  Caff  is  just  the  fellow  to  be  made  very  useful,  and  likes 
it  ;  so  don't  scruple  to  write  to  him  as  fully  as  you  please.  He  has 
already  told  me  of  a  first-rate  chief-servant,  a  Maestro  di  Casa,  for 
you ;  and,  in  fact,  only  commission  him,  and  he  '11  improvise  you  a 
full  household  ready  for  your  arrival.     Addio  J" 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE    MAJOR   AT   BADEN. 

*'  You  will  please  to  write  your  name  there,  sir,"  said  a  clerk 
from  beliiud  a  wooden  railing  to  a  fierce-looking  little  man  in 
a  frogged  coat  and  a  gold-banded  cap,  in  the  busy  bank-room 
of  Parodi  at  Genoa. 

"And  my  qualities?  "  asked  the  other,  haughtily. 

"As  you  please,  sir." 

The  stranger  took  the  pen,  and  wrote  "  Milo  M'Caskey, 
Count  of  the  two  Sicilies,  Knight  of  various  orders,  and 
Knight-postulate  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  &c.  &c." 

"  Your  Excellency  has  not  added  your  address,"  said  the 
clerk,  obsequiously. 

"  The  Tuileries  when  in  Paris,  Zarkoe-Zeloe  when  in 
Russia.  Usually  incog,  in  England,  I  reside  in  a  cottage 
near  Osborne.  When  at  this  side  of  the  Alps,  wherever 
be  the  royal  residence  of  the  Sovereign  in  the  city  I 
chance  to  be  in."  He  turned  to  retire,  and  then,  sud- 
denly wheeling  round,  said,  "Forward  any  letters  that 
may  come  for  me  to  my  relative,  who  is  now  at  the  Trom- 
betta,  Turin." 

"  Your  Excellency  has  forgotten  to  mention  his  name." 

"So  I  have,"  said  he,  with  a  careless  laugh.  "  It  is 
somewhat  new  to  me  to  be  in  a  town  where  I  am  un- 
known. Address  my  letters  to  the  care  of  his  Highness 
the  Duke  of  Lauenburg-Gluckstein ; "  and  with  a  little 
gesture  of  his  hand  to  imply  that  he  did  not  exact  any 
royal  honors  at  his  departure,  he  strutted  out  of  the  bank 
and  down  the  street. 

Few  met  or  passed  without  turning  to  remark  him,  such 
was  the  contrast  between  his  stature  and  his  gait;  for 
while  considerably  below  the  middle  size,  there  was  an  in- 


400  TONY  BUTLER. 

Solent  pretension  in  his  swagger,  a  defiant  impertinence  in 
the  stare  of  his  fiery  eyes,  that  seemed  to  seek  a  quarrel 
with  each  that  looked  at  him.  His  was  indeed  that  sense 
of  overflowing  prosperity  that,  if,  it  occasionally  inclines 
the  right-minded  to  a  feeling  of  gratitude  and  thankful- 
ness, is  just  as  certain  to  impel  the  men  of  a  different 
stamp  to  feats  of  aggressiveness  and  insolence.  Such  was 
indeed  his  mood,  and  he  would  have  hailed  as  the  best 
boon  of  Fate  the  occasion  for  a  quarrel  and  a  duel. 

The  contempt  he  felt  for  the  busy  world  that  moved  by, 
too  deep  in  its  own  cares  to  interpret  the  defiance  he  threw 
around  him,  so  elevated  him  that  he  swaggered  along  as  if 
the  flagway  were  all  his  own. 

Was  he  not  triumphant?  What  had  not  gone  well  with 
him?  Gold  in  his  pocket,  success  in  a  personal  combat 
with  a  man  so  highly  placed  that  it  was  a  distinction  to 
him  for  life  to  have  encountered ;  the  very  peremptory  order 
he  received  to  quit  Naples  at  once,  was  a  recognition  of  his 
importance  that  actually  overwhelmed  him  with  delight; 
and  he  saw  in  the  vista  before  him,  the  time  when  men 
would  stop  at  the  windows  of  printshops  to  gaze  on  the 
features  of  "Le  fameux  M'Caskey." 

There  was  something  glorious  in  his  self-conceit,  for  there 
was  nothing  he  would  not  dare  to  achieve  that  estimation 
which  he  had  already  conceived  of  his  own  abilities.  At 
the  time  I  now  speak  of,  there  was  a  momentary  lull  in  the 
storm  of  Italian  politics  caused  by  Count  Cavour's  crafty 
negotiations  with  the  Neapolitan  Government,  —  negotia- 
tions solely  devised  to  induce  that  false  sense  of  security 
which  was  to  end  in  downfall  and  ruin.  Whether  M'Cas- 
key  had  any  forebodings  of  what  was  to  come  or  not,  he 
knew  well  that  it  was  not  the  moment  for  men  like  himself 
to  be  needed.  "When  the  day  of  action  comes,  will  come 
the  question,  '  Where  is  M'Caskey?  '  Meanwhile  I  will  be 
off  to  Baden.  I  feel  as  though  I  ought  to  break  the 
bank." 

To  Baden  he  went.  How  many  are  there  who  can  recall 
that  bustling,  pretentious,  over-dressed  little  fellow,  who 
astonished  the  pistol-gallery  by  his  shooting,  and  drove  the 
poor  maitre  d'armes  to  the  verge  of  despair  by  his  skill  with 


THE   MAJOR  AT  BADEN.  401 

the  rapier,  and  then  swaggered  into  the  phij'-room  to  take 
the  first  chair  he  pleased,  only  too  happy  if  he  could  pro- 
voke any  to  resent  it.  How  he  frowned  down  the  men  and 
ogled  the  women;  smiling  blandly  at  the  beauties  that 
passed,  as  though  in  j-ecognition  of  charms  their  owners 
might  well  feel  proud  of,  for  they  had  captivated  a  M'Cas- 
key!  How  sumptuous,  too,  his  dinner;  how  rare  and 
curious  his  wines ;  how  obsequious  were  they  who  waited  on 
him;  what  peril  impended  over  the  man  that  asked  to  be 
sei-N^ed  before  him! 

Strong  men, — men  in  all  the  vigor  of  their  youth  and 
strength,  — men  of  honor  and  men  of  tried  courage,  passed  s^ 

and  repassed,  looked  at,  but  never  dreamed  of  provoking 
him.  Absurd  as  he  was  in  dress,  ridiculous  in  his  over- 
weening pretension,  not  one  ventured  on  the  open  sneer  at 
what  each  in  his  secret  heart  despised  for  its  vulgar  inso- 
lence. And  what  a  testimony  to  pluck  was  there  in  all 
this!  for  to  what  other  quality  in  such  a  man's  nature  had 
the  world  consented  to  has^e  paid  homage? 

Not  one  of  those  who  made  way  for  him  would  have 
stooped  to  know  him.  There  was  not  a  man  of  those  who 
controlled  his  gravity  to  respect  a  degree  of  absurdity  actu- 
ally laughable,  who  would  have  accepted  his  acquaintance 
at  any  price;  and  yet,  for  all  that,  he  moved  amongst  them 
there,  exacting  every  deference  that  was  accorded  to  the 
highest,  and  undeniably  inferior  to  none  about  him.  ^ 

What  becomes  of  the  cant  that  classes  the  courage  of  men 
with  the  instincts  of  the  lowest  brutes  in  presence  of  a  fact 
like  this  ?  or  must  we  not  frankly  own  that  in  the  respect 
paid  to  personal  daring  we  read  the  avowal  that,  however 
constituted  men  may  be,  courage  is  a  quality  that  all  must 
reverence? 

Not  meeting  with  the  resistance  he  had  half  hoped  for, 
denied  none  of  the  claims  he  preferred,  M'Caskey  became 
bland  and  courteous.  He  vouchsafed  a  nod  to  the  croupier 
at  the  play-table,  and  manifested,  by  a  graceful  gesture  as 
he  took  his  seat,  that  the  company  need  not  rise  as  he 
deigned  to  join  them. 

In  little  more  than  a  week  after  his  arrival  he  had  become 
famous;  he  was  splendid,  too,   in  his  largesses  to  waiters 

26 


402  TONY  BUTLER. 

and  lackeys;  and  it  is  a  problem  that  might  be  somewhat 
of  a  puzzle  to  resolve,  how  far  the  sentiments  of  the  very 
lowest  class  can  permeate  the  rank  above  them,  and  make 
themselves  felt  in  the  very  highest ;  for  this  very  estimation, 
thus  originating,  grew  at  last  to  be  at  least  partially  enter- 
tained by  others  of  a  very  superior  station.  It  was  then 
that  men  discussed  with  each  other  who  was  this  strange 
Count,  — of  what  nation?  Five  modern  languages  had  he 
been  heard  to  talk  in,  without  a  flaw  even  of  accent.  What 
country  he  served?  Whence  and  what  his  resources?  It 
was  when  newspaper  correspondents  began  vaguely  to  hint 
at  an  interesting  stranger,  whose  skill  in  every  weapon  was 
only  equalled  by  his  success  at  play,  &c.,  that  he  disap- 
peared as  suddenly  as  he  had  come,  but  not  without  leaving 
ample  matter  for  wonder  in  the  telegraphic  despatch  he  sent 
off  a  few  hours  before  starting,  and  which,  in  some  form 
more  or  less  garbled,  was  currentl}^  talked  of  in  society. 
It  was  addressed  to  M.  Mocquard,  Tuileries,  Paris,  and  in 
these  words:  "Tell  E.  I  shall  meet  him  at  the  Compiegne 
on  Saturda3\" 

Could  anything  be  more  delightfully  intimate?  While 
the  crafty  idlers  of  Baden  were  puzzling  their  heads  as  to 
who  he  might  be  who  could  thus  write  to  an  imperial  secre- 
tary, the  writer  was  travelling  at  all  speed  through  Switzer- 
land, but  so  totally  disguised  in  appearance  that  not  even 
the  eye  of  a  detective  could  have  discovered  in  the  dark- 
haired,  black-bearded,  and  sedate-looking  Colonel  Cham- 
berlayne  the  fiery-faced  and  irascible  Count  M'Caskey. 

A  very  brief  telegram  in  a  cipher  well  known  to  him  was 
the  cause  of  his  sudden  departure.  It  ran  thus:  "Wanted 
at  Chambery  in  all  haste."  And  at  Chambery,  at  the  Golden 
Lamb,  did  he  arrive  with  a  speed  which  few  save  himself 
knew  how  to  compass.  Scarcely'  had  he  entered  the  arched 
doorwa}^  of  the  inn,  than  a  traveller,  preceded  by  his  lug- 
gage, met  him.  They  bowed,  as  people  do  who  encounter 
in  a  passage,  but  without  acquaintance ;  and  yet  in  that  brief 
courtesy  the  stranger  had  time  to  slip  a  letter  into  M'Cas- 
key's  hand,  who  passed  in  with  all  the  ease  and  unconcern 
imaginable.  Having  ordered  dinner,  he  went  to  his  room 
to  dress,  and  then,  locking  his  door,  he  read :  — 


THE   MAJOR  AT  BADEN.  403 

"  The  Cabinet  courier  of  the  English  Government  will  pass 
Chambery  on  the  night  of  Saturday  the  18th,  or  on  the  morning 
of  Sunday  the  19th.  He  will  be  the  bearer  of  three  desj)atch- 
bags,  two  large  and  one  small  one,  bearing  the  letters  F.  O.  and 
the  number  18  on  it.  You  are  to  possess  yourself  of  this,  if  pos- 
sible —  the  larger  bags  are  not  required.  If  you  succeed,  make  for 
Xaples  by  whatever  route  you  deem  best  and  speediest,  bearing  in 
mind  that  the  loss  may  possibly  be  known  at  Turin  within  a  brief 
space. 

"  If  the  contents  be  as  suspected,  and  all  goes  well,  you  are  a 
made  man. 

"C.  C.'» 

M'Caskey  read  this  over  three  several  times,  dwelling 
each  time  on  the  same  places,  and  then  he  arose  and  walked 
leisurely  up  and  down  the  room.  He  then  took  out  his 
guide-book  and  saw  that  a  train  started  for  St.  Jean  de 
Maurienne  at  six,  arriving  at  eight,  —  a  short  train,  not 
in  correspondence  with  any  other ;  and  as  the  railroad  ended 
there,  the  remainder  of  the  journey,  including  the  passage 
of  Mont  Cenis,  must  be  performed  by  carriage.  Of  course, 
it  was  in  this  short  interval  the  feat  must  be  accomplished, 
if  at  all. 

The  waiter  announced  "his  Excellency's"  dinner  while  he 
thus  cogitated,  and  he  descended  and  dined  heartily;  be 
even  ordered  a  bottle  of  very  rare  chambertin,  which  stood 
at  eighteen  francs  in  the  carte.  He  sipped  his  wine  at  his 
ease ;  he  had  full  an  hour  before  the  train  started,  and  he 
had  time  for  reflection  as  well  as  enjoyment. 

"You  are  to  possess  yourself  of  this,"  muttered  he,  read- 
ing from  a  turned-down  part  of  the  note.  "  Had  you  been 
writing  to  any  other  man  in  Europe,  Signor  Conte  Caffarelli, 
you  would  have  been  profuse  enough  of  your  directions; 
you  would  have  said,  '  You  are  to  shoot  this  fellow;  you 
are  to  waylay  him ;  you  are  to  have  him  attacked  and  come 
to  his  rescue,'  and  a  score  more  of  such-like  contrivances; 
but  —  to  me  —  to  me  —  there  was  none  of  this.  It  was  just 
as  Buonaparte  said  to  Desaix  at  Marengo,  '  Ride  through 
the  centre,'  —  he  never  added  how.  A  made  man !  I  should 
think  so!  The  man  has  been  made  some  3^ears  since,  sir. 
Another  bottle,   waiter,  and    mind   that  it  be  not  shakeiL 


404  TONY  BUTLER. 

Who  was  it  —  I  can't  remember  —  stopped  a  Russian 
courier  with  despatches  for  Constantinople?  Ay,  to  be 
sure,  it  was  Long  Wellesley;  he  told  me  the  story  him- 
self. It  was  a  clumsy  trick,  too;  he  upset  his  sledge  in 
the  snow,  and  made  off  with  the  bags,  and  got  great  credit 
for  the  feat  at  home." 

"The  train  will  start  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  sir,"  said 
the  waiter. 

"Not  if  I  am  not  ready,  my  good  fellow,"  said  the 
Major,  — "though  now  I  see  nothing  to  detain  me,  and  I 
will  go." 

Alone  in  his  first-class,  he  had  leisure  to  think  over  his 
plans.  Much  depended  on  who  might  be  the  courier.  He 
knew  most  of  them  well,  and  speculated  on  the  peculiar 
traits  of  this  or  thai.  "If  it  be  Bromley,  he  will  have  his 
own  caleche;  Airlie  will  be  for  the  cheap  thing,  and  take  the 
diligence ;  and  Poynder  will  be  on  the  look-out  for  some  one 
to  join  him,  and  pay  half  the  post-horses  and  all  the  pos- 
tilions. There  are  half  a  dozen  more  of  these  fellows  on 
this  '  dodge, '  but  I  defy  the  craftiest  of  them  to  know  me 
now;  "  and  he  took  out  a  little  pocket-glass,  and  gazed  com- 
placently at  his  features.  "  Colonel  Moore  Chamberlayne, 
A.D.C.,  on  his  way  to  Corfu,  with  despatches  for  the  Lord 
High  Commissioner.  A  very  soldierlike  fellow,  too,"  added 
he,  arranging  his  whiskers,  "but,  I  shrewdly  suspect,  a  bit 
of  a  Tartar.  Yes,  that 's  the  ticket,"  added  he,  with  a  smile 
at  his  image  in  the  glass,  —  "despatches  of  great  importance 
for  Storks  at  Corfu." 

Arrived  at  St.  Jean,  he  learned  that  the  mail  train  from 
France  did  not  arrive  until  11.20,  ample  time  for  all  his 
an-angements.  He  also  learned  that  the  last  English  mes- 
senger had  left  his  caleche  at  Susa,  and,  except  one  light 
carriage  with  room  for  only  two,  there  was  nothing  on  that 
side  of  the  mountain  but  the  diligence.  This  conveyance 
he  at  once  secured,  ordering  the  postilion  to  be  in  the  saddle 
and  ready  to  start,  if  necessary,  when  the  mail  train  came 
in.  "It  is  just  possible,"  said  he,  "that  the  friend  I  am 
expecting  may  not  arrive,  in  which  case  I  shall  await  the 
next  train;  but  if  he  comes  you  must  drive  your  best,  my 
man,  for  I  shall  want  to  catch  the  first  train  for  Susa  in  the 


THE   MAJOR   AT  BADEN.  405 

morning."  Saying  this,  he  retired  to  his  room,  where  he 
had  many  things  to  do,  —  so  many,  indeed,  that  he  had  but 
just  completed  them  when  the  shriek  of  the  engine  announced 
that  the  train  was  coming ;  the  minute  after,  the  long  line 
dashed  into  the  station  and  came  to  a  stand. 


CHAPTEK   XLIV. 

THE    messenger's    FIRST    JOURXET. 

As  the  train  glided  smoothly  into  the  station,  M'Caskey 
passed  down  the  platform,  peering  into  each  carriage  as  if 
in  search  of  an  unexpected  friend.  "Not  come,"  muttered 
he,  in  a  voice  of  displeasure,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by 
the  solitary  first-class  passenger,  who  soon  after  emerged 
with  some  enormous  bags  of  white  linen  massively  sealed, 
and  bearing  addresses  in  parchment. 

"I  beg  pardon,"  said  M'Caskey,  approaching  and  touch- 
ing his  hat  in  salute.     "Are  you  with  despatches?  " 

'•Yes,"  said  the  other,  in  some  astonishment  at  the 
question. 

"Have  you  a  bag  for  me?''  and  then  suddenly  correcting 
himself  with  a  little  smile  at  the  error  of  his  supposing  he 
must  be  universally  known,  added,  "I  mean  for  the  Hon. 
Colonel  Chambeilayne." 

'"I  have  nothing  that  is  not  addressed  to  a  legation,"  said 
the  other,  trying  to  pass  on. 

•'  Strange!  they  said  I  should  receive  some  further  instruc- 
tions by  the  first  messenger.  Sorry  to  have  detained  you, 
—  good-evening." 

The  young  man  —  for  he  was  young  —  was  already  too 
deep  in  an  attempt  to  inquire  in  French  after  a  carriage,  to 
hear  the  last  words,  and  continued  to  ask  various  inattentive 
bystanders  certain  questions  about  a  caleche  that  ought  to 
have  been  left  by  somebody  in  somebody's  care  for  the  use 
of  somebody  else. 

"Is  it  true,  can  you  tell  me?"  said  he,  running  after 
M'Caskey.  "They  say  that  there  is  no  conveyance  here 
over  the  mountain  except  the  diligence." 


THE  MESSENGER'S  FIRST  JOURNEY.  407 


it- 


'I  believe  it  is  quite  true,"  said  the  "Colonel,"  gravely. 

•'Aud  they  say,  too,  that  the  diligence  never,  at  this  sea- 
son, arrives  in  time  to  catch  the  early  train  at  —  I  forget  the 
place." 

"AtSusa?" 

"Yes,  that's  it." 

"  They  are  perfectly  correct  in  all  that ;  and  knowing  it 
so  well,  and  as  my  despatches  are  urgent,  I  sent  on  my  own 
light  carriage  here  from  Geneva." 

"And  have  you  despatches  too?"  asked  the  other,  whom 
we  may  as  well  announce  to  the  reader  as  Tony  Butler. 
"Have  you  despatches  too?"  cried  he,  in  great  delight  at 
meeting  something  like  a  colleague. 

"Yes;  I  take  out  orders  for  the  Lord  High  Commissioner 
to  Corfu.     I  am  the  head  of  the  Staff  there." 

Tony  bowed  in  recognition  of  the  announced  rank,  and 
said  quietly:  "My  name  is  Butler.  I  am  rather  new  to  this 
sort  of  thing,  and  never  crossed  the  Alps  in  my  life." 

"I  '11  give  you  a  lift,  then,  for  I  have  a  spare  place.  My 
servant  has  gone  round  with  my  heavy  baggage  by  Trieste, 
and  I  have  a  seat  to  spare." 

"This  is  most  kiml  of  you,  but  I  scarcely  dare  put  you  to 
such  inconvenience." 

"Don't  talk  of  that.  We  are  all  in  the  same  boat.  It 's 
my  luck  to  have  this  offer  to-day;  it  will  be  yours  to- 
morrow.    What 's  your  destination?  " 

"First  Turin,  then  Naples;  but  I  believe  I  shall  have  no 
delay  at  Turin,  and  the  Naples  bags  are  the  most  urgent 
ones." 

"Is  there  anj^thing  going  on  down  there,  then?"  asked 
M'Caskey,  carelessly. 

"I  suspect  there  must  be,  for  three  of  our  fellows  have 
been  sent  there,  —  I  am  the  fourth  within  a  fortnight." 

"A  country  that  never  interested  me.  Take  a  cigar. 
Are  you  ready,  or  do  you  want  to  eat  something?  " 

"No,  I  am  quite  ready,  and  only  anxious  not  to  be  late 
for  this  first  train.  The  fact  is,  it  's  all  a  new  sort  of  life 
to  me,  and  as  I  am  a  wretchedly  bad  Frenchman,  I  don't 
get  on  too  well."  ' 

"The  great  secret  is,  be  peremptory,  never  listen  to  ex- 


408  TOXY  BUTLER. 

cuses,  tolerate  no  explanations.     That 's  m}^  plan.     I  pay 
liberally,  but  I  insist  on  having  what  I  want." 

They  were  now  seated,  and  dashing  along  at  all  the  speed 
and  with  all  the  noise  of  four  wiry  posters,  and  M'Caske^^ 
went  on  to  describe  how,  with  that  system  of  united  despot- 
ism and  munificence,  he  had  travelled  over  the  whole  globe 
with  success.  As  for  the  anecdotes  he  told,  they  embraced 
every  land  and  sea;  and  there  was  scarcely  an  event  of 
momentous  importance  of  the  last  quarter  of  a  century  of 
which  he  had  not  some  curious  private  details.  He  was 
the  first  man  to  discover  the  plans  of  Russia  on  the  Pruth. 
It  was  he  found  out  Louis  Philippe's  intrigue  about  the 
Spanish  marriages.  "If  you  feel  interest  In  this  sort  of 
thing,"  said  he,  carelessly,  "just  tell  the  fellows  at  home 
,to  show  you  the  blue-book  with  Chamberlayne's  correspond- 
ence. It  is  private  and  confidential;  but,  as  a  friend  of 
mine,  you  can  see  it."  And  what  generosity  of  character 
he  had !  he  had  let  Seymour  carry  off  all  the  credit  of  that 
detection  of  Russia.  "To  be  sure,"  added  he,  "one  can't 
forget  old  times,  and  Seymour  was  my  fag  at  Eton."  It 
was  he,  too,  counselled  Lord  Elgin  to  send  off  the  troops 
from  China  to  Calcutta  to  assist  in  repressing  the  mutiny-. 
"Elgin  hesitated ;  he  could  n't  make  up  his  mind ;  he  thought 
this  at  one  moment  and  that  the  next;  and  he  sent  for  me 
at  last,  and  said,  '  George,  I  want  a  bit  of  advice  from 
you.'  'I  know  what  you  mean,'  said  I,  stopping  him;  '  send 
every  man  of  them,  — don't  hold  back  a  drummer.'  I  will 
say,"  he  added,  "he  had  the  honesty  to  own  from  whom  he 
got  that  counsel,  and  he  was  greatly  provoked  when  he  found 
I  could  not  be  included  in  the  vote  of  thanks  of  the  House. 
'Confound  their  etiquette,'  said  he;  'it  is  due  to  George, 
and  he  ought  to  have  it.'  You  don't  know  why  I  'm  in  such 
haste  to  Corfu  now  ?  " 

"I  have  not  the  faintest  notion." 

"I  will  tell  you:  first,  because  a  man  can  alwa3^s  trust  a 
gentleman ;  secondh^  it  will  be  matter  of  table-talk  b}^  the 
time  3^ou  get  back.  The  Tories  are  in  need  of  the  Radicals, 
and  to  buy  their  support  intend  to  offer  the  throne  of 
Greece,  which  will  be  vacant  whenever  we  like,  to  Richard 
Cobden." 


THE  MESSENGER'S  FIRST  JOURNEY.  409 

"How  strange!  and  would  be  accept  it?" 

"Some  say  no;  /  say  yes;  and  Louis  Napoleon,  who 
knows  men  thoroughly,  agrees  with  me.  '  J/om  vJwr  Chani^'* 
—  he  alwa^'s  called  me  Cham,  — '  talk  as  people  will,  it  is  a 
very  pleasant  thing  to  sit  on  a  throne,  and  it  goes  far 
towards  one's  enjoyment  of  life  to  have  so  many  people 
employed  all  day  long  to  make  it  agreeable.'"  If  Tony 
thought  at  times  that  his  friend  was  a  little  vainglorious, 
he  ascribed  it  to  the  fact  that  any  man  so  intimate  with  the 
great  people  of  the  world,  talking  of  them  as  his  ordinary 
every-day  acquaintances,  might  reasonably  appear  such  to 
one  as  much  removed  from  all  such  intercourse  as  he  himself 
was.  That  the  man  who  could  say,  "Nesselrode,  don't  tell 
me,"  or  "Rechberg,  my  good  fellow,  you  are  in  error 
there!  "  should  be  now  sitting  beside  him,  sharing  his  sand- 
wich with  him,  and  giving  him  to  drink  from  his  sherry- 
flask  ;  was  not  that  glory  enough  to  turn  a  stronger  head  than 
poor  Tony's?  Ah,  my  good  reader,  I  know  well  that  you 
would  not  have  been  caughi  by  such  blandishments.  You 
have  "seen  men  and  cities."  You  have  been  at  courts, 
dined  beside  royalties,  and  been  smiled  on  by  serene  high- 
nesses; but  Tony  has  not  had  your  training;  he  has  had 
none  of  these  experiences;  he  has  heard  of  great  names  just 
as  he  has  heard  of  great  victories.  The  illustrious  people 
of  the  earth  are  no  more  within  the  reach  of  his  estimation 
than  are  the  jewels  of  a  Mogul's  turban ;  but  it  is  all  the  more 
fascinating  to  him  to  sit  beside  one  who  "knows  it  all." 

Little  wonder,  then,  if  time  sped  rapidly,  and  that  he 
never  knew  weariness.  Let  him  start  what  theme  he  might, 
speak  of  what  land,  what  event,  what  person  he  pleased,  the 
Colonel  was  ready  for  him.  It  was  marvellous,  indeed,  — 
so  very  marvellous  that  to  a  suspicious  mind  it  might  have 
occasioned  distrust, — with  how  many  great  men  he  had 
been  at  school,  what  shoals  of  distinguished  fellows  he  had 
served  with.  With  a  subtle  flattery,  too,  be  let  drop  the 
remark  that  he  was  not  usually  given  to  be  so  frank  and 
communicative.  "The  fact  is,"  said  he,  "young  men  are, 
for  the  most  part,  bad  listeners  to  the  experiences  of  men 
of  my  age;  they  fancy  that  they  know  life  as  well,  if  not 
better,  than  ourselves,  and  that  our  views  are  those  of  '  by- 


410  TONY  BUTLER. 

gones.'  You,  however,  showed  none  of  this  spirit;  you 
were  willing  to  hear  and  to  learn  from  one  of  whom  it 
would  be  false  modesty  were  I  not  to  say,  Few  know  more 
of  men  and  their  doings." 

Now  Tony  liked  this  appreciation  of  him,  and  he  said  to 
himself,  "He  is  a  clever  fellow, — not  a  doubt  of  it;  he 
never  saw  me  till  this  evening,  and  yet  he  knows  me  thor- 
oughly well."  Seeing  how  the  Colonel  had  met  with  every- 
body, he  resolved  he  would  get  from  him  his  opinion  of  some 
of  his  own  friends,  and,  to  lead  the  way,  asked  if  he  was 
acquainted  with  the  members  of  the  English  Legation  at 
Turin.- 

"IknowBathurst, —  we  tvere  intimate,"  said  he;  "but  we 
once  were  in  love  with  the  same  woman,  —  the  mother  of 
an  empress  she  is  now,  —  and  as  I  rather  '  cut  him  out, '  a 
coldness  ensued,  and  somehow  we  never  resumed  our  old 
footing.  As  for  Croker,  the  Secretary,  it  was  I  got  him 
that  place." 

"And  Darner,  —  Skeff  Damer,  — do  you  know  him?  " 

"I  should  think  I  do.     I  was  his  godfather." 

"He's  the  greatest  friend  I  have  in  the  world!"  cried 
Tony,  in  ecstasy  at  this  happy  accident. 

"I  made  him  drop  Chamberlayne.  It  was  his  second 
name,  and  I  was  vain  enough  to  be  annoyed  that  it  was  not 
his  first.     Is  he  here  now  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  is  attached  to  the  Legation,  and  sometimes 
here,  sometimes  at  Naples." 

"Then  we  '11  make  him  give  us  a  dinner  to-day,  for  I  shall 
refuse  Bathurst:  he  is  sure  to  ask  me;  but  you  will  tell 
Damer  that  we  are  both  engaged  to  him." 

Tony  only  needed  to  learn  the  tie  that  bound  his  newly 
made  acquaintance  with  his  dearest  friend,  to  launch  freely 
out  about  himself  and  his  new  fortunes;  he  told  all  about 
the  hard  usage  his  father  had  met  with,  —  the  services  he 
had  rendered  his  country  in  India  and  elsewhere,  and  the 
ungenerous  requital  he  had  met  for  them  all.  "That  is  why 
you  see  me  here  a  messenger,  instead  of  being  a  soldier, 
like  all  my  family  for  seven  generations  back.  I  won't 
say  I  like  it,  —  that  would  n't  be  true;  but  I  do  it  because 
it  happens  to  be  one  of  the  few  things  I  can  do." 


THE  MESSENGER'S  FIRST  JOURNEY.  411 

"That's  a  mistake,  sir,"  said  the  Colouel,  fiercely;  "a 
mistake  thousands  fall  iuto  every  day.  A  man  can  make 
of  life  whatever  he  likes,  if  only  —  mark  me  well  —  if  only 
his  will  be  strong  enough." 

"If  wishing  would  do  it  —  " 

"Hold!  I'm  not  talking  of  wishing;  schoolboy's  wish, 
pale-cheeked  freshmen  at  college,  goggle-eyed  ensigns  in 
marching  regiments  wish.  Men,  real  men,  do  not  wish; 
they  will,  — that's  all  the  difference.  Strong  men  make  a 
promise  to  themselves  early  in  life,  and  they  feel  it  a  point 
of  honor  to  keep  it.  As  Rose  said  one  day  in  the  club  at 
Calcutta,  speaking  of  me,  '  He  has  got  the  Bath,  just  because 
he  said  he  would  get  it.'  " 

"The  theory  is  a  very  pleasant  one." 

"You  can  make  the  practice  just  as  pleasant,  if  you  like 
it.  Whenever  you  take  your  next  leave,  —  they  give  you 
leave,  don't  they?  " 

"Yes,  three  months;  we  might  have  more,  I  believe,  if 
we  asked  for  it." 

"  Well,  come  and  spend  your  next  leave  with  me  at  Corfu. 
You  shall  have  some  good  shooting  over  in  Albania,  plenty 
of  mess  society,  pleasant  yachting,  and  you  '11  like  our  old 
Lord  High;  he's  stiff  and  cold  at  first,  but,  introduced  by 
we,  you  '11  be  at  once  amongst  the  '  most  favored  nations.'  " 

"I  can't  thank  you  enough  for  so  kind  a  proposal,"  began 
Tony;  but  the  other  stopped  him  with,  "Don't  thank  me, 
but  help  me  to  take  care  of  this  bag.  It  contains  the  whole 
fate  of  the  Levant  in  its  inside.  Those  sacks  of  yours,  —  I 
suppose  you  know  what  they  have  for  contents?" 

"No;  I  have  no  idea  what 's  in  them." 

"Old  blue-books  and  newspapers,  nothing  else;  they  're 
all  make-believes,  —  a  farce  to  keep  up  the  notion  that  great 
activity  prevails  at  the  Foreign  Office,  and  to  fill  up  that 
paragraph  in  the  newspapers,  '  Despatches  were  yesterday 
sent  off  to  the  Lord  High  Commissioner  of  the  Bahamas,'  or 
*  Her  Majesty's  Minister  at  Otaheite.'  Here  we  are  at  the 
rail  now,  —  that 's  Susa.  Be  alive,  for  I  see  the  smoke,  and 
the  steam  must  be  up." 

They  were  just  in  time;  the  train  was  actually  in  motion 
when  they  got  in,  and,  as  the  Colonel,  who  kept  up  a  rapid 


412  TONY  BUTLER. 

conversation  with  the  station-master,  informed  Tony,  noth- 
ing would  have  induced  them  to  delay  but  having  seen  him- 
self. "They  knew  me,"  said  he;  "they  remembered  my 
coming  down  here  last  autumn  with  the  Prince  de  Carignan 
and  Cavour."  And  once  more  had  Tony  to  thank  his  stars 
for  having  fallen  into  such  companionship. 

As  they  glided  along  towards  Turin,  the  Colonel  told 
Tony  that  if  he  found  the  "Weazle  "  gunboat  at  Genoa,  as 
he  expected,  waiting  for  him,  he  Avould  set  him,  Tony,  and 
his  despatches,  down  safely  at  Naples,  as  he  passed  on  to 
Malta.  "If  it 's  the  '  Growler,'  "  said  he,  "I  '11  not  promise 
you,  because  Hurton  the  commander  is  not  in  good-humor 
with  me.  I  refused  to  recommend  him  the  other  day  to  the 
First  Lord  for  promotion  —  say  nothing  about  this  to  the 
fellows  at  the  Legation;  indeed,  don't  mention  anything 
about  me,  except  to  Darner  —  for  the  dinner,  you  know." 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  go  straight  to  the  Legation  at 
once?"  said  Tony,  as  they  entered  Turin;  "my  orders  are 
to  deliver  the  bags  before  anything  else." 

"Certainly;  let  us  drive  there  straight,  — there  's  nothing 
like  doing  things  regularly;  I  'm  a  martinet  about  all  duty;  '* 
and  so  they  drove  to  the  Legation,  where  Tony,  throwing 
one  large  sack  to  the  porter,  shouldered  the  other  himself, 
and  passed  in. 

"Holloa!  "  cried  the  Colonel;  "I  '11  give  you  ten  minutes, 
and  if  you  're  not  down  by  that  time,  I  '11  go  off  and  order 
breakfast  at  the  inn." 

"All  right,"  said  Tony;  "this  fellow  says  that  Damer  is 
at  Naples." 

"I  k'-:ew  that,"  muttered  the  Colonel  to  himself;  and  then 
added  aloud,  "Be  alive  and  come  down  as  quick  as  you 
can,'*  —  he  looked  at  his  watch  as  he  spoke;  it  wanted  five 
minutes  to  eight, — "at  five  minutes  past  eight  the  train 
should  start  for  Genoa." 

He  seized  the  small  despatch-bag  in  his  hand,  and,  telling 
the  cabman  to  drive  to  the  Hotel  Feder  and  wait  for  him 
there,  he  made  straight  for  the  railroad.  He  was  just  in  the 
nick;  and  while  Tony  was  impatiently  pacing  an  anteroom 
of  the  Legation,  the  other  was  already  some  miles  on  the 
way  to  Genoa. 


THE  MESSENGER'S  FIRST  JOURNEY.  413 

At  last  a  very  sleepy-looking  attache,  in  a  dressing- 
gown  and  slippers,  made  his  appearance.  "Nothing  but 
these  ? "  said  he,  yawning  and  pointing  to  the  great  sacks. 

"No;  nothing  else  for  Turin." 

''Then  why  the did  you  knock  me  up, — when  it's 

only  a  shower-bath  and  Greydon's  boot-trees?" 

"How   the did  I  know  what   was   in  them?"   said 

Tony,  as  angrily. 

"You  must  be  precious  green,  then.  When  were  you 
made  ?  " 

"  When  was  I  made  ?  " 

"Yes;  when  were  you  named  a  messenger?" 

"Some  time  in  spring." 

"I  thought  you  must  be  an  infant,  or  you  'd  know  that 
it's  only  the  small  bags  are  of  any  consequence." 

"Have  yoU'  anything  more  to  say?  I  want  to  get  a  bath 
and  my  breakfast." 

"I  've  a  lot  more  to  say,  and  I  shall  have  to  tell  Sir 
Joseph  you  're  here!  and  I  shall  have  to  sign  your  time  bill, 
and  to  see  if  we  have  n't  got  something  for  Naples.  You  're 
for  Naples,  ain't  you?  And  I  want  to  send  Damer  some 
cigars  and  a  pot  of  caviare  that 's  been  here  these  two 
months,  and  that  he  must  have  smelled  from  Naples." 

"Then  be  hasty,  for  heaven's  sake,  for  I'm  starving." 

"Y"ou 're  starving!  How  strange,  and  it's  only  eight 
o'clock!  Why,  we  don't  breakfast  here  till  one,  and  1 
rarely  eat  anything." 

"So  much  the  worse  for  you,"  said  Tony,  gruffly.  "My 
appetite  is  excellent,  if  I  only  had  a  chance  to  gratify 
it." 

"What 's  the  news  in  town,  —  is  there  anything  stirring?  'V 

"Not  that  /know." 

"Has  Lumley  engaged  Teresina  again?" 

"Never  heard  of  her." 

"He  ought;  tell  him  /said  so.  She's  fifty  times  better 
than  La  Gradina.  Our  cJipf  here,"  added  he,  in  a  whisper, 
"says  she  has  better  legs  than  Pochini." 

"I  am  charmed  to  hear  it.  Would  you  just  tell  him  that 
mine  are  getting  very  tired  here?  " 

"Will  Lawson  pay  that  handicap  to  George  Hobart?" 


414  TONY  BUTLER. 

ToDy  shook  his  head  to  imply  total  ignorance  of  all 
concerned. 

"He  needn't,  you  know;  at  least,  Saville  Harris  refused 
to  book  up  to  Whitemare  on  exactly  the  same  grounds.  It 
"was  just  this  way:  here  was  the  winning-post  —  no,  here; 
that  seal  there  was  the  grand  stand;  when  the  mare  came 
up,  she  was  second.  I  don't  think  you  care  for  racing, 
eh?" 

"A  steeple-chase;  yes,  particularly  when  I 'm  a  rider. 
But  what  I  care  most  for  just  now  is  a  plunge  into  cold 
water  and  a  good  breakfast." 

There  was  something  actually  touching  in  the  commiser- 
ating look  the  attache  gave  Tony  as  he  turned  away  and 
left  the  room.  What  was  the  public  service  to  come  to  if 
these  were  the  fellows  to  be  named  as  messengers  ? 

In  a  very  few  minutes  he  was  back  again  in  the  room. 
"Where's  Naples?"  asked  he,  curtly. 

"AVhere 's  Naples?  Where  it  always  was,  I  suppose," 
said  Tony,  doggedly,  — "in  the  Gulf  of  that  name." 

"I  mean  the  bag, — the  Naples  bag;  it  is  under  flying 
seal,  and  Sir  Joseph  wants  to  see  the  despatches." 

"Oh,  that  is  below  in  the  cab.  I'll  go  down  and  fetch 
it;"  and  without  waiting  for  more,  he  hastened  downstairs. 
The  cab  was  gone.  "Naturally  enough,"  thought  Tony, 
"he  got  tired  waiting;   he  's  off  to  order  breakfast." 

He  hurried  upstairs  again  to  report  that, a  friend  with 
whom  he  travelled  had  just  driven  away  to  the  hotel  with  all 
the  baggage. 

"And  the  bags?"  cried  the  other,  in  a  sort  of  horror. 

"Yes,  the  bags,  of  course;  but  I  '11  go  after  him.  What 's 
the  chief  hotel  called  ?  " 

"The  Trombetta." 

"I  don't  think  that  was  the  name." 

"The  Czar  de  Russie?" 

"No,  nor  that." 

"Perhaps  Feder?" 

"Y>s,  that 's  it.  Just  send  some  one  to  show  me  the  way, 
and  I  '11  be  back  immediately.  I  suspect  my  unlucky  break- 
fast must  be  prorogued  to  luncheon-time." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!  "  cried  a  fine,  fresh-looking,  handsome 


THE  MESSENGER'S  FIRST  JOURNEY.  415 

man,  who  entered  the  room  with  a  riding-whip  in  his  hand; 
"come  in  and  take  share  of  mine." 

"He  has  to  go  over  to  Feder's  for  the  bags,  Sir  Joseph," 
whispered  the  attache,  submissively. 

"Send  the  porter,  —  send  Jasper,  —  send  any  one  you 
like.  Come  along,"  said  he,  drawing  his  arm  within  Tony's. 
"You  've  not  been  in  Italy  before,  and  your  first  impression 
ought  to  be  favorable;  so  I  '11  introduce  you  to  a  Mont 
Cenis  trout." 

"And  I  '11  profit  by  the  acquaintance,"  said  Tony.  "I 
have  the  appetite  of  a  wolf." 


CHAPTER  XLY. 


A     SHOCK      FOR     TONY. 


If  Tony  Butler  took  no  note  of  time  as  he  sat  at  breakfast 
with  Sir  Joseph,  he  was  only  sharing  the  fortune  of  every 
man  who  ever  found  himself  in  that  companionship.  From 
one  end  of  Europe  to  the  other  his  equal  could  not  be  found. 
It  was  not  alone  that  he  had  stores  of  conversation  for  the 
highest  capacities  and  the  most  cultivated  minds,  but  he 
possessed  that  thorough  knowledge  of  life  so  interesting 
to  men  of  the  world,  and  with  it  that  insight  into  character 
which  is  so  often  the  key  to  the  mystery  of  statecraft;  and 
with  all  these  he  had  a  geniality  and  a  winning,  grace  of 
look,  voice,  and  demeanor  that  sent  one  from  his  presence 
with  the  thought  that  if  the  world  could  but  compass  a  few 
more  like  him,  one  would  not  change  the  planet  for  the 
brightest  in  the  firmament.  Breakfast  over,  the}'  smoked; 
then  they  had  a  game  at  billiards ;  after  that  they  strolled 
into  the  garden,  and  had  some  pistol -firing.  Here  Ton}^ 
acquitted  himself  creditably,  and  rose  in  his  host's  esteem; 
for  the  minister  liked  a  man  who  could  do  an^'thing  —  no 
matter  what — very  well.  Tony,  too,  gained  on  him.  His 
own  fine  jo3'ous  nature  understood  at  once  the  high-hearted 
spirit  of  a  young  fellow  who  had  no  affectations  about  him, 
thoroughly  at  his  ease  without  presumption;  and  yet, 
through  that  gentleman  element  so  strong  in  him,  never 
transgressing  the  limits  of  a  freedom  so  handsomely'  accorded 
him. 

While  the  hours  rolled  over  thus  delightfully,  a  messenger 
returned  to  say  that  he  had  been  at  each  of  the  great  hotels, 
but  could  find  no  trace  of  Colonel  Chamberlayne,  nor  of  the 
missing  bags. 

"Send  Moorcap,"  said  the  minister. 


A  SHOCK  FOR   TONY.  417 

Moorcap  was  away  two  hours,  and  came  back  with  the 
same  story. 

"I  suspect  how  it  is,"  said  Tony.  "Chamberlayne  has 
been  obliged  to  start  suddenly,  and  has  carried  off  my  bags 
with  his  own;  but  when  he  discovers  his  mistake,  he  '11  drop 
them  at  Naples." 

Sir  Joseph  smiled,  —  perhaps  he  did  not  think  the  expla- 
nation very  satisfactory  ;  and  perhaps,  —  who  knows?  —  but 
he  thought  that  the  loss  of  a  despatch-bag  was  not  amongst 
the  heaviest  of  human  calamities.  "  At  all  events,"  he  said, 
"  we  '11  give  you  an  early  dinner,  Butler,  and  3^ou  can  start 
by  the  late  train  to  Genoa,  and  catch  the  morning  steamer  to 
Naples." 

Tony  asked  no  better ;  and  I  am  afraid  to  have  to  confess 
that  he  engaged  at  a  game  of  "  pool"  with  all  the  zest  of 
one  who  carried  no  weighty  care  on  his  breast. 

When  the  time  for  leave-taking  came.  Sir  Joseph  shook  his 
hand  with  cordial  warmth,  telling  him  to  be  sure  to  dine  with 
him  as  he  came  through  Turin.  "  Hang  up  your  hat  here, 
Butler ;  and  if  I  should  be  from  home,  tell  them  that  you  are 
come  to  dinner." 

Ver}^  simple  words  these.  They  cost  little  to  him  who 
spoke  them,  but  what  a  joy  and  happiness  to  poor  Tony ! 
Oh,  ye  gentlemen  of  high  place  and  station,  if  you  but  knew 
how  your  slightest  words  of  kindness  —  your  two  or  three 
syllables  of  encouragement  —  give  warmth  and  glow  and 
vigor  to  many  a  poor  wayfarer  on  life's  high-road,  imparting 
a  sense  not  alone  of  hope,  but  of  self-esteem,  to  a  nature  too 
distrustful  of  itself,  mayhap  you  might  be  less  chary  of  that 
which,  costing  you  so  little,  is  wealth  unspeakable  to  him  it 
is  bestowed  upon.  Tony  went  on  his  way  rejoicing  ;  he  left 
that  threshold,  as  many  others  had  left  it,  thinking  far  better 
of  the  world  and  its  people,  and  without  knowing  it,  very 
proud  of  the  notice  of  one  whose  favor  he  felt  to  be  fame. 
"Ah,"  thought  he,  "  if  Alice  had  but  heard  how  that  great 
man  spoke  to  me, — if  Alice  only  saw  how  familiarly  he 
treated  me,  —  it  might  show  her,  perhaps,  that  others  at 
least  can  see  in  me  some  qualities  not  altogether  hopeless." 

If,  now  and  then,  some  thought  of  that  "unlucky  bag" 
—  so  he  called  it  to  himself  —  would  invade,  he  dismissed  it 

27 


418  TONY  BUTLER. 

speedily,  with  the  assurance  that  it  had  already  safely 
reached  its  destination,  and  that  the  Colonel  and  Skeffy  had 
doubtless  indulged  in  many  a  hearty  laugh  over  his  embar- 
rassment at  its  loss.  "  If  they  knew  but  all,"  muttered  he; 
"  I  take  it  very  coolly.  I  'm  not  breaking  my  heart  over  the 
disaster."  And  so  far  he  was  right,  —  not,  however,  from 
the  philosophical  indifference  that  he  imagined,  but  simply 
because  he  never  believed  in  the  calamity,  nor  had  realized  it 
to  himself. 

When  he  landed  at  Naples,  he  drove  off  at  once  to  the 
lodgings  of  his  friend  Damer,  which,  though  at  a  consider- 
able height  from  the  ground,  in  a  house  of  the  St.  Lucia 
Quarter,  he  found  were  dignified  with  the  title  of  British 
Legation ;  a  written  notice  on  the  door  informed  all  the 
readers  that  "  H.  B.  M.'s  Charge  d' Affaires  transacted  busi- 
ness from  twelve  to  four  every  day."  It  was  two  o'clock 
when  Tony  arrived,  and,  notwithstanding  the  aforesaid 
announcement,  he  had  to  ring  three  times  before  the  door 
was  opened.  At  length  a  sleepy-looking  valet  appeared  to 
Bay  that  "His  Excellency"  — he  styled  him  so  —  was  in 
his  bath,  and  could  not  be  seen  in  less  than  an  hour.  Ton^ 
sent  in  his  name,  and  speedily  received  for  answer  that  he 
would  find  a  letter  addressed  to  him  in  the  rack  over  the 
chimney,  and  Mr.  Damer  would  be  dressed  and  with  him  by 
the  time  he  had  read  it. 

Poor  Tony's  eyes  swam  with  tears  as  he  saw  his  mother's 
handwriting,  and  he  tore  open  the  sheet  with  hot  impatience. 
It  was  very  short,  as  were  all  her  letters,  and  so  we  give  it 
entire :  — 

"  My  own  darling  Tony,  —  Your  beautiful  present  reached 
me  yesterday,  and  what  shall  I  say  to  my  poor  reckless  boy  for  such 
an  act  of  extraA'agance  ?  Surely,  Tony,  it  was  made  for  a  queen, 
and  not  for  a  poor  widow  that  sits  the  day  long  mending  her  stock- 
ings at  the  window.  But  ain't  I  proud  of  it,  and  of  him  that  sent 
it !  Heaven  knows  what  it  has  cost  you,  my  dear  boy,  for  even  the 
carriage  here  from  London,  by  the  Royal  Parcel  Company,  Limited, 
came  to  thirty-two  and  fourpence.  Why  they  call  themselves 
*  Limited  '  after  that,  is  clean  beyond  my  comprehension.  [If  Tony 
smiled  here,  it  was  with  a  hot  and  flushed  cheek,  for  he  had  for- 
gotten to  prepay  the  whole  carriage,  and  he  was  vexed  at  his 
thoughtlessness.] 


A  SHOCK  FOR  TONY.  419 

"  As  to  my  wearing  it  going  to  meeting,  as  you  say,  it 's  quite 
impossible.  The  thought  of  its  getting  wet  would  be  a  snare  to  take 
my  mind  off  the  blessed  words  of  the  minister ;  and  I  'm  not  sure, 
my  dear  Tony,  that  any  congregation  could  sit  profitably  within 
sight  of  what  —  not  knowing  the  love  that  sent  it  —  would  seem 
like  a  temptation  and  a  vanity  before  men.  Sables,  indeed,  real 
Kussian  sables,  appear  a  strange  covering  for  these  old  shoulders. 

♦•  It  was  about  two  hours  after  it  came  that  Mrs.  Trafford  called  in 
to  see  me,  and  Jeanie  would  have  it  that  I  'd  go  into  the  room  wiih 
my  grand  new  cloak  on  me ;  and  sure  enough  I  did,  Tony,  trying  all 
the  while  not  to  seem  as  if  it  was  anything  strange  or  uncommon,  but 
just  the  sort  of  wrapper  I  'd  tlirow  round  me  of  a  cold  morning.  But 
it  would  n't  do,  my  dear  Tony.  I  was  half  afraid  to  sit  down  on  it, 
and  I  kept  turning  out  the  purple-satin  lining  so  often  that  Mrs. 
Trafford  said  at  last,  '  Will  you  forgive  my  admiration  of  your 
cloak,  Mrs.  Butler,  but  I  never  saw  one  so  beautiful  before  ;  '  and 
then  I  told  her  who  it  was  that  sent  it ;  and  she  got  very  red  and 
then  very  pale,  and  then  walked  to  the  window,  and  said  something 
about  a  shower  that  was  threatening;  though,  sooth  to  say,  Tony, 
the  only  threat  of  rain  I  could  see  was  in  her  own  blue  eyes.  But 
she  turned  about  gayly  and  said,  '  We  are  going  away,  Mrs.  Butler, 
—  going  abroad ; '  and  before  I  could  ask  why  or  where,  she  told 
me  in  a  hurried  sort  of  way  that  her  sister  Isabella  had  been  ordered 
to  pass  a  winter  in  some  warm  climate,  and  that  they  were  going  to 
try  Italy.  She  said  it  all  in  a  strange  quick  voice,  as  if  she  did  n't 
like  to  talk  of  it,  and  wanted  it  over;  but  she  grew  quite  herself 
again  when  she  said  that  the  gardener  would  take  care  that  my 
flowers  came  regularly,  and  that  Sir  Arthur  and  Lady  Lyle  would 
be  more  than  gratified  if  I  would  send  up  for  anything  I  liked  out  of 
the  garden.  '  Don't  forget  that  the  melons  were  all  of  Tony's  sow- 
ing, Mrs.  Butler,'  said  she,  smiling ;  and  I  could  have  kissed  her  for 
the  way  she  said  it. 

"  There  were  many  other  kind  things  she  said,  and  in  a  way,  too, 
that  made  them  more  than  kind ;  so  that  when  she  went  away,  I  sat 
thinking  if  it  was  not  a  temptation  to  meet  a  nature  like  hers,  —  so 
sweet,  so  lovely,  and  yet  so  worldly ;  for  in  all  she  spoke,  Tony, 
there  was  never  a  word  dropped  of  what  sinful  creatures  we  are, 
and  what  a  thorny  path  it  is  that  leads  us  to  the  better  life  before 
us. 

"  I  was  full  of  her  visit,  and  everything  she  said,  when  Dr.  Stewart 
dropped  in  to  say  that  they  had  been  down  again  at  the  Burnside  to 
try  and  get  him  to  let  Dolly  go  abroad  with  them.  'I  never  liked 
the  notion,  Mrs.  Butler,'  he  said  ;  '  but  I  was  swayed  here  and  swayed 
there  by  my  thoughts  for  the  lass,  what  was  best  for  her  body's 
health,  and  that  other  health  that  is  of  far  more  value  ;  when  there 


420  TONY  BUTLEK. 

came  a  letter  to  me,  —  it  was  anonymous,  —  saving',  "Before  you 
suffer  your  good  and  virtuous  daughter  to  go  away  to  a  foreign  land, 
just  ask  the  lady  that  is  to  protect  her  if  she  still  keeps  up  the  habit 
of  moonlight  walks  in  a  garden  with  a  gentleman  for  her  companion, 
and  if  that  be  the  sort  of  teaching  she  means  to  inculcate."  Mrs. 
Trafford  came  to  the  door  as  I  was  reading  the  letter,  and  I  said, 
"What  can  you  make  of  such  a  letter  as  this?"  and  as  she  read  it 
her  cheek  grew  purple,  and  she  said,  "  There  is  an  end  of  our  pro- 
posal. Dr.  Stewart.  Tell  your  daughter  I  shall  importune  her  no 
more;  but  this  letter  I  mean  to  keep  :  it  is  in  a  hand  I  know  well." 
And  she  went  back  to  the  carriage  without  another  word ;  and  to- 
morrow they  leave  the  Abbey,  some  say  not  to  come  back  again.' 

"  I  cried  the  night  through  after  the  doctor  went  away,  for  what 
a  world  it  is  of  sin  and  misery ;  not  that  I  will  believe  wrong  of  her, 
sweet  and  beautiful  as  she  is,  but  what  for  was  she  angry  ?  and  why 
did  she  show  that  this  letter  could  give  her  such  pain  ?  And  now, 
my  dear  Tony,  since  it  could  be  no  other  than  yourself  she  walked 
alone  with,  is  it  not  your  duty  to  write  to  the  doctor  and  tell  him  so? 
The  pure  heart  fears  not  the  light,  neither  are  the  good  of  con- 
science afraid.  That  she  is  above  your  hope  is  no  reason  that  she  is 
above  your  love.  That  I  was  your  father's  wife  may  show  that ! 
Above  all,  Tony,  think  that  a  Gospel  minister  should  not  harbor  an 
evil  thought  of  one  who  does  not  deserve  it,  and  whose  mightiest  sin 
is  perchance  the  pride  that  scorns  a  self-defence. 

"  The  poor  doctor  is  greatly  afflicted  :  he  is  sorry  now  that  he 
showed  the  letter,  and  Dolly  cries  over  it  night  and  day. 

"  Is  it  not  a  strange  thing  that  Captain  Graham's  daughters,  that 
never  were  used  to  come  here,  are  calling  at  the  Burnside  two  or 
three  times  a  week  ? 

"  Write  to  me,  my  dear  Tony,  and  if  you  think  well  of  what  I 
said,  write  to  the  doctor  also,  and  believe  me  your  ever  loving 
mother, 

"Eleanor  Butler. 

"  Dolly  Stewart  has  recovered  her  health  again,  but  not  her 
spirits.  She  rarely  comes  to  see  me,  but  I  half  suspect  that  her 
reason  is  her  dislike  to  show  me  the  depression  that  is  weighing  over 
her.  So  is  it,  dear  Tony,  go  where  you  will ;  there  is  no  heart  with- 
out its  weary  load,  no  spirit  without  that  touch  of  sorrow  that  should 
teach  submission.  Reflect  well  over  this,  dear  boy  ;  and  never  for- 
p;et  that  though  at  times  we  put  off  our  troubles  as  a  wayfarer  lays 
down  his  pack,  we  must  just  strap  on  the  load  again  when  we  take 
to  the  road,  for  it  is  a  burden  we  have  to  bear  to  the  journey's 
end." 

Not  all  the  moral  reflections  of  this  note  saved  it  from  be- 


A  SHOCK  FOR  TONY.  421 

ing  crushed  passionately  in  his  hand  as  he  finished  reading  it. 
That  walk,  that  moonlight  walk,  with  whom  could  it  have 
been?  with  whom  but  Maitland?  And  it  was  by  her  —  by 
her  that  his  whole  heart  was  filled,  —  her  image,  her  voice, 
her  gait,  her  smile,  her  faintest  whisper,  that  made  up  the 
world  in  which  he  lived.  Who  could  love  her  as  he  did? 
Others  would  have  their  hopes  and  ambitions,  their  dreams 
of  worldly  success,  and  such  like ;  but  he,  —  he  asked  none 
of  these ;  her  heart  was  all  he  strove  for.  With  her  he 
would  meet  any  fortune.  He  knew  she  was  above  him  in 
every  way,  —  as  much  by  every  gift  and  grace  as  by  every 
accident  of  station;  but  what  did  that  signify?  The  ardor 
of  his  love  glowed  only  the  stronger  for  the  difficulty,  — just 
as  his  courage  would  have  mounted  the  higher,  the  more 
hazardous  the  feat  that  dared  it.  These  were  his  reason- 
ings, —  or  rather  some  shadowy  shapes  of  these  flitted 
through  his  mind. 

And  was  it  now  all  over  ?  Was  the  star  that  had  guided 
him  so  long  to  be  eclipsed  from  him  ?  Was  he  never  again 
to  ask  himself  in  a  moment  of  difficulty  or  doubt,  What  will 
Alice  say  ?  —  what  will  Alice  think  ?  As  for  the  scandalous 
tongues  that  dared  to  asperse  her,  he  scorned  them  ;  and  he 
was  indignant  with  the  old  minister  for  not  making  that 
ver}^  letter  itself  the  reason  of  acceptmg  a  proposal  he  had 
been  until  then  averse  to.  He  should  have  said,  '•^Noir 
there  can  be  no  hesitation,  — Dolly  must  go  with  you  now.*' 
It  was  just  as  his  musings  got  thus  far  that  Skeffy  rushed 
into  the  room  and  seized  him  by  both  hands. 

"Ain't  I  glad  to  see  your  great  sulky  face  again?  Sit 
down  and  tell  me  everything  —  how  you  came  —  when  — 
—  how  long  you  're  to  stay  —  and  what  brought  you  here." 

"  I  came  with  despatches,  —  that  is,  1  ought  to  have  had 
them." 

''  AVhat  do  you  mean  ?  " 

*'I  m.ean  that  some  of  the  bags  I  left  at  Turin;  and  one 
small  fellow,  which  I  take  to  have  been  the  cream  of  the 
correspondence,  Chamberlayne  carried  on  here,  —  at  least  I 
hope  so.     Have  n't  you  got  it  ?  " 

"What  infernal  muddle  are  your  brains  in?  Who  is 
Chamberlayne  ?  " 


422  TONY  BUTLER. 

*'Come,  come,  Skeffy,  I'm  not  in  a  joking  mood;  "  and 
he  glanced  at  the  letter  in  his  hand  as  he  spoke.  "  Don't 
worry  me,  old  fellow,  but  say  that  you  have  got  the  bag  all 
right." 

"  But  I  have  not,  I  never  saw  it,  — never  heard  of  it.** 

"  And  has  the  Colonel  not  been  here?" 

"Who  is  the  Colonel?" 

*'  Chamberlayne." 

*'  And  who  is  Chamberlayne." 

"That  is  cool,  certainly;  I  think  a  man  might  acknowl- 
edge his  godfather." 

"  Whose  godfather  is  he?  " 

*'  Yours,  —  your  own.  Perhaps  you  '11  deny  that  you  were 
christened  after  him,  and  called  Chamberlayue?  " 

Skeffy  threw  up  his  embroidered  cap  in  the  air  at  these 
words,  and,  flinging  himself  on  a  sofa,  actually  screamed  with 
laughter.  "  Tony,"  cried  he  at  last,  "this  will  immortalize 
you.  Of  all  the  exploits  performed  by  messengers,  this 
one  takes  the  van." 

"  Look  here,  Damer,"  said  Tony,  sternly;  "I  have  told 
you  already  I  'm  in  no  laughing  humor.  I  've  had  enough 
here  to  take  the  jollity  out  of  me  "  —  and  he  shook  tlie  letter 
in  his  hand —  "  for  many  a  day  to  come;  so  that  whatever 
3^ou  have  to  say  to  me,  bear  in  mind  that  you  say  it  to  one 
little  disposed  to  good-humor.  Is  it  true  that  you  have  not 
received  these  despatches?" 

"  Perfectly  true." 

"Then  how  are  we  to  trace  him?  His  name  is  Colonel 
Moore  Chamberlayne,  aide-de-camp  to  the  Lord  High  Com- 
missioner, Corfu." 

Skeffy  bit  his  lip,  and  by  a  great  effort  succeeded  in  re- 
pressing the  rising  temptation  to  another  scream  of  laughter, 
and,  taking  down  a  bulky  red-covered  volume  from  a  shelf, 
began  to  turn  over  its  pages.  "  There,"  said  he  at  last,  — ■ 
"there  is  the  Whole  staff  at  Corfu:  Hailes,  Winchester, 
Corbett,  and  Ainslie.     No  Chamberlayne  amongst  them." 

Tony  stared  at  the  page  in  hopeless  bewilderment.  "  AYhat 
do  3'ou  know  of  him?  Who  introduced  you  to  each  other? 
Where  did  you  meet?  "  asked  Skeffy. 

"We  met  at  the  foot  of  the  Mont  Cenis,  where,  seeing 


A  SHOCK  FOR  TONY.  423 

that  I  had  despatches,  and  no  means  to  get  forward,  he 
offered  me  a  seat  in  his  caliche.  I  accepted  gladly,  and  we 
got  on  capitally ;  he  was  immense  fun  ;  he  knew  everybody, 
and  had  been  everywhere ;  and  when  he  told  me  that  he  was 
your  godfather  —  " 

"Stop,  stop!  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  will  you  stop,  or 
you  '11  kill  me  !  "  cried  Skeffy  ;  and,  throwing  himself  on  his 
back  on  the  sofa,  he  flung  his  legs  into  the  air,  and  yelled 
aloud  with  laughter. 

"Do  3'ou  know.  Master  Damer,  I'm  sorely  tempted  to 
pitch  you  neck  and  crop  out  of  the  window?"  said  Tony, 
savagely. 

"Do  so,  do  so,  by  all  means,  if  you  like;  only  let  me 
have  my  laugh  out,  or  I  shall  burst  a  blood-vessel." 

Tony  made  no  reply,  but  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
with  his  brow  bent  and  his  arms  folded. 

"And  then?"  cried  Skeff,  —  "  and  then?  What  came 
next?" 

"  It  is  your  opinion,  then,"  said  Tony,  sternly,  "  that  this 
fellow  was  a  swindler,  and  not  on  the  Staff  at  all?  " 

*'No  more  than  he  was  my  godfather!"  cried  Damer, 
wiping  his  eyes. 

"  And  that  the  whole  was  a  planned  scheme  to  get  hold  of 
the  despatches  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  Filangieri  knows  well  that  we  are  wait- 
ing for  important  instructions  here.  There  is  not  a  man 
calls  here  who  is  not  duly  reported  to  him  by  his  secret 
police." 

"  And  why  did  n't  Sir  Joseph  think  of  that  when  I  told 
him  what  had  happened  ?  All  he  said  was,  '  Be  of  good 
cheer,  Butler ;  the  world  will  go  round  even  after  the  loss 
of  a  despatch-bag.' " 

"  So  like  him,"  said  Skeffy;  "the  levity  of  that  man  is 
the  ruin  of  him.     They  all  say  so  at  the  OMice." 

"I  don't  know  what  they  say  at  the  Office;  but  I  can 
declare  that  so  perfect  a  gentleman  and  so  fine  a  fellow 
I  never  met  before." 

Skeffy  turned  to  the  glass  over  the  chimney,  smoothed  his 
moustaches,  and  pointed  their  tips  most  artistically,  smiling 
gracefully  at  himself,  and  seeming  to  say,  "  You  and  I,  if  we 


424  TONY  BUTLER. 

were  not  too  modest,  could  tell  of  some  one  fully  his 
equal." 

"  And  what 's  to  be  done, — what's  to  come  of  this?" 
asked  Tony,  after  a  short  silence. 

"  I  '11  have  to  report  you.  Master  Tony.  I  '11  have  to  write 
home  :  '  My  Lord,  — The  messenger  Butler  arrived  here  this 
morning  to  say  that  he  confided  your  Lordship's  despatches 
and  private  instructions  to  a  most  agreeable  gentleman,  whose 
acquaintance  he  made  at  St.  Jean  de  Maurienne  ;  and  that  the 
fascinating  stranger,  having  apparently  not  mastered  their 
contents  up  to  the  present  — '" 

"Go  to  the  —  " 

"  No,  Tony,  I  shall  not;  but  I  think  it  not  at  all  improb- 
able that  such  will  be  the  destination  his  Lordship  will  assign 
assistant-messenger  Butler.  The  fact  is,  my  boy,  your  career 
in  our  department  is  ended." 

"With  all  my  heart!  Except  for  that  fine  fellow  I  saw 
at  Turin,  I  think  I  never  met  such  a  set  of  narrow-minded 
snobs." 

"  Tony,  Tony,"  said  the  other,  "  when  Moses,  in  the  '  Vicar 
of  Wakefield,'  —  and  I  take  it  he  is  more  familiar  to  you  than 
the  other  of  that  name,  —  was  '  done  '  by  the  speculator  in 
green  spectacles,  he  never  inveighed  against  those  who  had 
unfortunately  confided  their  interests  to  his  charge.  Now, 
as  to  our  department  —  " 

"  Confound  the  department !  I  wish  I  had  never  heard  of 
it.  You  say  it 's  all  up  with  me,  and  of  course  I  suppose  it 
is  ;  and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Skeffy,  I  don't  think  it  signifies  a 
great  deal  just  now,  except  for  that  poor  mother  of  mine." 
Here  he  turned  away,  and  wiped  his  eyes  hurriedly.  "  I  take 
it  that  all  mothers  make  the  same  sort  of  blunder,  and  never 
will  believe  that  they  can  have  a  blockhead  for  a  son  till  the 
world  has  set  its  seal  on  him." 

"Take  a  weed,  and  listen  to  me,"  said  Skeffy,  dictatori- 
ally,  and  he  threw  his  cigar-case  across  the  table,  as  he  spoke. 
"  You  have  contrived  to  make  as  bad  a  dehiit  in  your  career 
as  is  well  possible  to  conceive." 

"  What's  the  use  of  telling  me  that?  In  your  confounded 
passion  for  hearing  yourself  talk,  you  forget  that  it  is  not  so 
pleasant  for  me  to  listen." 


A  SHOCK  FOR  TONY.  425 

"Prisoner  at  the  bar,"  continued  Skeffy,  "you  liave  been 
convicted  —  you  stand,  indeed,  self-convicted  —  of  an  act 
wiiich,  as  we  regard  it,  is  one  of  gross  ignorance,  of  in- 
credible folly,  or  of  inconceivable  stupidity,  —  places  you 
in  a  position  to  excite  the  pity  of  compassionate  men,  the 
scorn  of  those  severer  moralists  who  accept  not  tiie  exten- 
uating circumstances  of  youth,  unacquaintance  with  life, 
and  a  credulity  that  approaches  childlike  — " 

"  You  're  a  confounded  fool,  Skeffy,  to  go  on  in  this 
fashion  when  a  fellow  is  in  such  a  fix  as  I  am,  not  to 
speak  of  other  things  that  are  harder  to  bear.  It 's  a 
mere  toss-up  whether  he  laughs  at  your  nonsense  or  pitches 
you  over  the  banisters.  I  "ve  been  within  an  ace  of  one 
and  the  other  three  times  in  the  last  five  minutes ;  and 
now  all  my  leaning  is  towards  the  last  of  the  two." 

"  Don't  yield  to  it,  then,  Tony.     Don't,  I  warn  you." 

"And  why?" 

"Because  you'd  never  forgive  yourself,  not  alone  for 
having  injured  a  true  and  faithful  friend,  but  for  the  far 
higher  and  more  irreparable  loss  in  having  cut  short  the 
career  of  a  man  destined  to  be  a  light  to  Europe.  I  say 
it  in  no  vanit}^,  —  no  boastf uluess.  No,  on  ray  honor !  if 
I  could  —  if  the  choice  were  fairly  given  to  me,  I  'd  rather 
not  be  a  man  of  mark  and  eminence.  I  'd  rather  be  a  com- 
monplace, tenth-rate  sort  of  dog  like  yourself." 

The  unaffected  honesty  with  which  he  said  this  did  for 
Tony  what  no  cajolery  nor  flattery  could  have  accom- 
plished, and  set  him  off  into  a  roar  of  laughter  that  con- 
quered all  his  spleen  and  ill-humor. 

"Y^our  laugh,  like  the  laugh  of  the  foolish,  is  ill-timed. 
You  cannot  see  that  you  were  introduced,  not  to  be  stigma- 
tized, but  to  point  a  moral.     Y^ou  fancy  yourself  a  creature, 

—  you  are  a  category  ;  you  imagine  3'ou  are  an  individuality, 

—  you  are  not ;  you  are  a  fragment  rent  from  a  primeval 
rock." 

"  I  believe  I  ought  to  be  as  insensible  as  a  stone  to  stand 
you.  But  stop  all  this,  I  say,  and  listen  to  me.  I  'm  not 
much  up  to  writing, —  but  you  '11  help  me,  I  know  ;  and  what 
I  want  said  is  simply  this :  '  I  have  been  tricked  out  of 
one  of  the  bags  by  a  rascal  that  if  ever  I  lay  hands  on  I  '11 


426  TONY  BUTLER. 

bring  bodily  before  the  Office  at  home,  and  make  him  con- 
fess the  whole  scheme  ;  and  I  '11  either  break  his  neck  after- 
wards, or  leave  him  to  the  law,  as  the  Secretary  of  State 
may  desire.' " 

Now,  poor  Tony  delivered  this  with  a  tone  and  manner 
that  implied  he  thought  he  was  dictating  a  very  telling  and 
able  despatch.  "  I  suppose,"  added  he,  "I  am  to  say  that 
I  now  resign  my  post,  and  I  wish  the  devil  had  me  when  I 
accepted  it." 

"  Not  civil,  certainly,  to  the  man  who  gave  you  the  ap- 
pointment, Tony.  Besides,  when  a  man  resigns,  he  has  to 
wait  for  the  acceptance  of  his  resignation." 

"Oh,  as  for  that,  there  need  be  no  ceremony.  They'll 
be  even  better  pleased  to  get  rid  of  me  than  I  to  go.  They 
got  a  bad  bargain;  and,  to  do  them  justice,  they  seemed  to 
have  guessed  as  much  from  the  first." 

"And  then,  Tony?" 

"  I  '11  go  to  sea, —  I  '11  go  before  the  mast ;  there  must  be 
many  a  vessel  here  wants  a  hand,  and  in  a  few  weeks'  prac- 
tice I  '11  master  the  whole  thing ;  my  old  3'achting  experi- 
ences have  done  that  for  me." 

"  My  poor  Tony,"'  said  Skeffy,  rising  and  throwing  his 
arms  round  him,  "I'll  not  listen  to  it.  What!  when  j^ou 
have  a  home  here  with  me,  are  you  to  go  off  and  brave  hard- 
ship and  misery  and  degradation  ?  " 

"  There  's  not  one  of  the  three, —  I  deny  it.  Coarse  food 
and  hard  work  are  no  misery ;  and  I  '11  be  hanged  if  there  's 
any  degradation  in  earning  one's  bread  with  his  hands  when 
his  head  is  not  equal  to  it." 

"  I  tell  you  I  '11  not  suffer  it.  If  you  drive  me  to  it,  I  '11 
prevent  it  by  force.  I  am  her  Majest3^'s  Charge  d'Affaires. 
I  '11  order  the  consul  to  enroll  3'ou  at  his  peril, —  I  '11  imprison 
the  captain  that  takes  }'ou,  —  I'll  detain  the  ship,  and  put 
the  crew  in  irons." 

"  Before  you  do  lialf  of  it.  let  me  have  some  dinner,"  said 
Tony,  laughing,  "  for  I  came  on  shore  ver^'  hungry-,  and 
have  eaten  nothing  since." 

"  I '11  take  you  to  my  favorite  restaurant,  and  you  shall 
have  a  regular  Neapolitan  banquet,  washed  down  b}^  some 
old   Capri.     There,  spell  out  that  newspaper  till   I   dress : 


A  SHOCK  FOR  TONY.  427 

and  if  any  one  rings  in  the  mean  while,  say  his  Excellency 
has  just  been  sent  for  to  Caserta  by  the  King,  and  will  not 
be  back  before  to-morrow."  As  he  reached  the  door  he 
put  his  head  in  again,  and  said,  ^'  Unless,  perchance,  it 
should  be  my  godfather,  when,  of  course,  you  '11  keep  him 
for  dinner." 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

*'the  bag  no.  18." 

Almost  overlooking  the  terraced  garden  where  Darner  and 
Tony  dined,  and  where  they  sat  smoking  till  a  late  hour  of 
the  uight,  stood  a  large  palace,  whose  vast  proportions  and 
spacious  entrance,  as  well  as  an  emblazoned  shield  over  the 
door,  proclaimed  it  to  belong  to  the  Government.  It  was 
the  Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs  ;  and  here,  now,  in  a  room 
projecting  over  the  street  beneath,  and  supported  on  arches, 
sat  the  Minister  himself,  with  our  two  acquaintances,  Mait- 
land  and  Caffarelli. 

Maitland  was  still  an  invalid,  and  rested  on  a  sofa,  but  he 
had  recovered  much  of  his  former  looks  and  manner,  though 
he  was  dressed  with  less  care  than  was  his  wont. 

The  Minister  —  a  very  tall  thin  man,  stooped  in  the 
shoulders,  and  with  a  quantity  of  almost  white  graj^  hair 
streaming  on  his  neck  and  shoulders  —  walked  continually 
up  and  down  the  room,  commenting  and  questioning  at 
times,  as  Maitland  read  forth  from  a  mass  of  documents 
which  littered  the  table,  and  with  which  Caffarelli  supplied 
him,  breaking  the  seals  and  tearing  open  the  envelopes 
before  he  gave  them  to  his  hand. 

Though  Maitland  read  with  ease,  there  was  yet  that  half- 
hesitation  in  the  choice  of  a  word,  as  he  went  on,  that  showed 
he  was  translating ;  and  indeed  once  or  twice  the  Prince- 
Minister  stopped  to  ask  if  he  had  rightly  imparted  all  the 
intended  force  to  a  particular  expression. 

A  white  canvas  bag,  marked  "  F.  O.,  No.  18,"  lay  on  the 
table ;  and  it  was  of  that  same  bag  and  its  possible  fortunes 
two  others,  not  fully  one  hundred  yards  off,  were  then  talk- 
ing ;  so  is  it  that  in  life  we  are  often  so  near  to,  and  so  re- 


"THE   BAG  NO.   18."  429 

mote  from,  the  inanimate  object  around  which  our  thoughts 
and  hopes,  and  sometimes  our  very  destinies,  revolve. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  the  Prince,  at  last,  "that  we  have 
got  nothing  here  but  the  formal  despatches,  of  which  Ludolf 
has  sent  us  copies  already.  Are  there  no  '  Private  and  Con- 
fidentials'?" 

"Yes,  here  is  one  for  Sir  Joseph  Trevor  himself,"  said 
Caffarelli,  handing  a  square-shaped  letter  to  Maitland. 
Maitland  glanced  hurriedly  over  it,  and  muttered  :  "  London 
gossip,  Craddock's  divorce  case,  the  partridge-shooting,  — 
ah,  here  it  is !  'I  suppose  you  are  right  about  the  expedi- 
tion, but  say  nothing  of  it  in  the  despatches.  We  shall  be 
called  on  one  of  these  days  for  a  blue-book,  and  very  blue  we 
should  look,  if  it  were  seen  that  amidst  our  wise  counsels  to 
Caraffa  we  were  secretly  aware  of  what  G.  was  preparing.' " 

*'  It  must  be  '  C.  was  preparing,'  "  broke  in  Caraffa  ;  "  it 
means  Cavour." 

''No;   he  speaks  of  Garibaldi,"  said  Maitland. 

"  Garibaldi !"  cried  Caraffa,  laughing.  "And  are  there 
stiW  gobemouches  in  England  who  believe  in  the  Filibuster?" 

"I  believe  in  him,  for  one,"  said  Maitland,  fiercely,  for 
the  phrase  irritated  him;  "and  I  say,  too,  that  such  a 
Filibuster  on  our  side  would  be  worth  thirty  thousand  of 
those  great  hulking  grenadiers  you  passed  in  review  this 
morning." 

"  Don't  tell  the  King  so  when  you  wait  on  him  to-morrow, 
that 's  all !  "  said  the  Minister,  with  a  sneering  smile. 

"Read  on,"  broke  in  Caffarelli,  who  was  not  at  all  sure 
what  the  discussion  might  lead  to. 

"Perhaps,  too,  you  would  class  Count  Cavour  amongst 
these  gobemouches^'*  said  Maitland,  angrily ;  "  for  he  is  also 
u  believer  in  Garibaldi." 

"We  can  resume  this  conversation  at  Caserta  to-morrow 
before  his  Majesty,"  said  Caraffa,  with  the  same  mocking 
smile;  "pray,  now,  let  me  hear  the  remainder  of  that 
despatch." 

"  '  It  is  not  easy  to  say,' "  read  he  aloud  from  the  letter, 
"  *  what  France  intends  or  wishes.     C.  says  —  '  " 

"Who  is  C?"  asked  Caraffa,  hastily. 

'*  C.  means  Cowley,  probably,  —  '  that  the  Emperor  would 


430  TONY  BUTLER. 

not  willingly  see  Piedmontese  troops  at  Naples ;  nor  is  be 
prepared  to  witness  a  new  map  of  the  Peninsula.  We,  of 
course,  will  do  nothing  either  way  — '  " 

"Read  that  again,"  broke  in  Caraffa. 

*'  'We,  of  course,  will  do  nothing  either  way;  but  that 
resolve  is  not  to  prevent  your  tendering  counsel  with  a  high 
hand,  all  the  more  since  the  events  which  the  next  few 
months  will  develop  will  all  of  them  seem  of  our  provoking, 
and  part  and  parcel  of  a  matured  and  long  meditated 
policy.' " 

'■''  Benissimo!''  cried  the  minister,  rubbing  his  hands  in 
delight.  "If  we  reform,  it  is  the  Whigs  have  reformed  us. 
If  we  fall,  it  is  the  Whigs  have  crushed  us." 

"  '  Caraffa,  we  are  told,'  "  continued  Maitland,  "  '  sees  the 
danger,  but  is  outvoted  by  the  Queen-Dowager's  party  in 
the  Cabinet,  —  not  to  say  that,  from  his  great  intimacy 
with  Pietri,  many  think  him  more  of  a  Muratist  than  a 
Bourbon. '  " 

"Per  Bacco !  when  your  countryman  tries  to  be  acute, 
there  is  nothing  too  hazardous  for  his  imagination;  so, 
then,  I  am  a  French  spy !  " 

"'  What  you  say  of  the  army,'  "  read  on  Maitland,  "  '  is 
confirmed  by  our  other  reports.  Very  few  of  the  line  regi- 
ments will  be  faithful  to  the  monarchy,  and  even  some  of 
the  artillery  will  go  over.  As  to  the  fleet,  Martin  tells  me 
they  have  not  three  seaworthy  ships  in  the  fifty-seven  they 
reckon,  nor  six  captains  who  would  undertake  a  longer 
voyage  than  Palermo.  Their  only  three-decker  was  afraid 
to  return  a  salute  to  the  "Pasha,"  lest  her  old  thirty-two- 
poundevs  should  explode;  and  this  is  pretty  much  the  case 
with  the  monarchy,  —  the  first  shock  must  shake  it,  even 
though  it  only  come  of  blank  cartridge. 

"  '  While  events  are  preparing,  renew  all  your  remon- 
strances; press  upon  Caraffa  the  number  of  untried  prison- 
ers, and  the  horrid  condition  of  the  prisons.  Ask,  of  course 
in  a  friendly  way,  when  are  these  abuses  to  cease?  Say  that 
great  hopes  of  amelioration  —  speak  generally  —  were  con- 
ceived here  on  the  accession  of  the  new  King,  and  throw  in 
our  regrets  that  the  liberty  of  the  press  with  us  will  occa- 
sionally lead  to  strictures  whose  severities  we  deplore,  with- 


"THE  BAG  NO.   18."  '  431 

out  being  able  to  arraign  their  justice;  and  lastly,  declare 
our  readiness  to  meet  any  commercial  exchanges  that  might 
promise  mutual  advantage.  This  will  suggest  the  belief 
that  we  are  not  in  any  way  cognizant  of  Cavour's  projects. 
In  fact,  I  will  know  nothing  of  them,  and  hold  myself  pre- 
pared, if  questioned  in  the  House,  to  have  had  no  other 
information  than  is  supplied  by  the  newspapers.  Who  is 
Maitland?  None  of  the  Maitlands  here  can  tell  me.'" 
This  sentence  he  read  out  ere  he  knew  it,  and  almost  crushed 
the  paper  when  he  had  finished  in  his  passion. 

"Go  on,"  said  Caraffa,  as  the  other  ceased  to  read  aloud, 
while  his  eyes  ran  over  the  lines,  — "go  on." 

"It  is  of  no  moment,  or,  at  least,  its  interest  is  purely 
personal.  His  Lordship  recommends  that  I  should  be 
bought  over,  but  still  left  in  intimate  relations  with  your 
Excellency." 

"And  I  see  no  possible  objection  to  the  plan." 

"Don't  you,  sir?"  cried  Maitland,  fiercely;  "then  I  do. 
Some  little  honor  is  certainly  needed  to  leaven  the  rottenness 
that  reeks  around  us." 

^'' Caro  Signor  Conte^""  said  the  Prince,  in  an  insinuating 
voice,  but  of  which  insincerity  was  the  strong  characteristic, 
"do  not  be  angry  with  my  Ultramontane  morality.  I  was 
not  reared  on  the  virtuous  benches  of  a  British  Parliament; 
but  if  there  is  anything  more  in  that  letter,  let  me  hear  it." 

"There  is  only  a  warning  not  to  see  the  Count  of  Syra- 
cuse, nor  any  of  his  party,  who  are  evidently  waiting  to  see 
which  horse  is  to  win.  Ah,  and  here  is  a  word  for  your 
address.  Carlo!  '  If  Caffarelli  be  the  man  we  saw  last  season 
here,   I  should  say.   Do  not  make  advances  to  him;  he  is 

a  ruined  gambler,  and  trusted  by  no  party.     Lady  C 

believes  in  him,  but  none  else!'" 

This  last  paragraph  set  them  all  a-laughing,  nor  did  any 
seem  to  enjoy  it  more  than  Caffarelli  himself. 

"One  thing  is  clear,"  said  Caraffa,  at  last,  — "England 
wishes  us  every  imaginable  calamity,  but  is  not  going  to 
charge  herself  with  any  part  of  the  cost  of  our  ruin.  France 
has  only  so  much  of  good-will  towards  us  as  is  inspired  by 
her  dislike  of  Piedmont,  and  she  will  wait  and  watch  events. 
Now,  if  Bosco  be  only  true  to  his  word,  and  can  give  us  a 


432  TONY  BUTLER. 

'good  account'  of  his  treatment  of  Garibaldi,  I  think  all 
will  go  well." 

*'When  was  Garibaldi  to  set  out  ?"  asked  Caffarelli. 

"Brizzi,  but  he  is  seldom  correct,  said  the  18th." 

"That  Irish  fellow  of  ours,  Maitlaod,  is  positive  it  will 
be  by  the  loth  at  latest.  By  the  way,  when  I  asked  him 
how  I  could  reward  this  last  piece  of  service  he  rendered  us 
in  securing  these  despatches,  his  reply  was,  '  I  want  the 
cordon  of  St.  Januarius.'  I,  of  course,  remonstrated,  and 
explained  that  there  were  certain  requisites  as  to  birth  and 
family,  certain  guarantees  as  to  nobility  of  blood,  certain 
requirements  of  fortune.  He  stopped  me  abruptl}^,  and 
said,  '  I  can  satisfy  them  allj  and  if  there  be  any  delay  in 
according  my  demand,  I  shall  make  it  in  person  to  his 
Majesty.'  " 

"Well,"  cried  Caffarelli,  —  "well,  and  what  followed?  " 

"I  yielded,"  said  the  Prince,  with  one  of  his  peculiar 
smiles.  "We  are  in  such  a  perilous  predicament  that  we 
can't  afford  the  enmity  of  such  a  consummate  rascal;  and 
then,  who  knows  but  he  may  be  the  last  knight  of  the 
order ! "  In  the  deep  depression  of  the  last  words  was 
apparent  their  true  sincerity,  but  he  rallied  hastil}-,  and 
said,  "I  have  sent  the  fellow  to  Bosco  with  despatches, 
and  said  that  he  may  be  usefully  employed  as  a  spy,  for  he 
is  hand-and-glove  with  all  the  Garibaldians.  Surely  he 
must  have  uncommon  good  luck  if  he  escapes  a  bullet  from 
one  side  or  the  other." 

"He  told  me  yesterday',"  said  Caffarelli,  "that  he  would 
not  leave  Naples  till  his  Majesty  passed  the  Irish  Legion 
in  review,  and  addressed  them  some  words  of  loyal 
compliment." 

"Why  didn't  he  tell  you,"  said  the  Prince,  sarcastically, 
"that  seventy  of  the  scoundrels  have  taken  service  with 
Garibaldi,  some  hundreds  have  gone  to  the  hills  as  brig- 
ands, and  Castel  d'Ovo  has  got  the  remainder;  and  it  takes 
fifteen  hundred  foot  and  a  brigade  of  artillery  to  watch 
them  ?  " 

"Did  j'ou  hear  this,  Maitland?"  cried  Caffarelli;  "do 
you  hear  what  his  Excellency  says  of  your  pleasant 
countrymen  ?  " 


"THE   BAG  NO.   18."  433 

Maitland  looked  up  from  a  letter  that  he  was  deeply  en- 
gaged in,  and  so  blank  and  vacant  was  his  stare  that 
Caffarelli  repeated  what  the  Minister  had  just  said.  "I 
don't  think  you  are  minding  what  I  say.  Have  you  heard 
me,  Maitland?  " 

"Yes;  no  —  that  is,  my  thoughts  were  on  something  that 
I  was  reading  here." 

"Is  it  of  interest  to  us?"  asked  Caraffa. 

"None  whatever.  It  was  a  private  letter  which  got  into 
my  hands  open,  and  I  had  read  some  lines  before  I  was  well 
aware.  It  has  no  bearing  on  politics,  however;"  and, 
crushing  up  the  note,  he  placed  it  in  his  pocket,  and  then, 
as  if  recalling  his  mind  to  the  affairs  before  him,  said: 
"The  King  himself  must  go  to  Sicily.  It  is  no  time  to 
palter.  The  personal  daring  of  Victor  Emmanuel  is  the 
bone  and  sinew  of  the  Piedmontese  movement.  Let  us  show 
the  North  that  the  South  is  her  equal  in  everything." 

"  I  should  rather  that  it  was  from  ijou  the  advice  came 
than  from  me,"  said  Caraffa,  with  a  grin.  "I  am  not  in  the 
position  to  proffer  it." 

"If  I  were  Prince  Caraffa,  I  should  do  so,  assuredly." 

"You  would  not,  Maitland,"  said  the  other,  calmly. 
"You  would  not,  and  for  this  simple  reason,  that  you  would 
see  that,  even  if  accepted,  the  counsel  would  be  fruitless. 
If  it  were  to  the  Queen,  indeed  —  " 

"Yes,  ^e?-  Bacro  ! ''  broke  in  Caffarelli,  "there  is  not  a 
gentleman  in  the  kingdom  would  not  spring  into  the  saddle 
at  such  a  call." 

"Then  why  not  unfold  this  standard?"  asked  Maitland. 
"\Yhy  not  make  one  effort  to  make  the  monarchy  popular?" 

"Don't  you  know  enough  of  Naples,"  said  Caraffa,  "to 
know  that  the  cause  of  the  noble  can  never  be  the  cause  of 
the  people;  and  that  to  throw  the  throne  for  defence  on  the 
men  of  birth  is  to  lose  the  '  men  of  the  street '  ?  " 

He  paused,  and  with  an  expression  of  intense  hate  on  his 
face,  and  a  hissing  passionate  tone  in  his  voice,  continued, 
"It  required  all  the  consummate  skill  of  that  great  man, 
Count  Cavour,  to  weld  the  two  classes  together,  and  even  he 
could  not  elevate  the  populace;  so  that  nothing  was  left  to 
him  but  to  degrade  the  noble." 

28 


434  TONY  BUTLER. 

"I  think,  meanwhile,  we  are  losing  precious  time,"  said 
Maitland,  as  he  took  up  his  hat.  "Bosco  should  be  rein- 
forced. The  squadron,  too,  should  be  strengthened  to  meet 
the  Sardinian  fleet;  for  we  have  sure  intelligence  that  they 
mean  to  cover  Garibaldi's  landing;  Persano  avows  it." 

"All  the  better  if  they  do,"  said  Caraffa.  "The  same  act 
which  would  proclaim  their  own  treachery  would  deliver 
into  our  hands  this  hare-brained  adventurer." 

"Your  Excellency  may  have  him  longer  in  your  hands 
than  you  care  for,"  said  Maitland,  with  a  saucy  smile.  The 
Prince  bowed  a  cold  acknowledgment  of  the  speech,  and 
suffered  them  to  retire  without  a  word. 

"It  is  fated,  I  believe,"  said  Caffarelli,  as  they  gained 
the  street,  "that  the  Prince  and  you  are  never  to  separate 
without  anger;  and  you  are  wrong,  Maitland.  There  is  no 
man  stands  so  high  in  the  King's  favor." 

"What  care  I  for  that,  Carlo  mio?  the  whole  thing  has 
ceased  to  interest  me.  I  joined  the  cause  without  any  love 
for  it;  the  more  nearly  I  saw  its  working,  the  more  I 
despised  myself  for  acting  with  such  associates;  and  if  I 
hold  to  it  now,  it  is  because  it  is  so  certain  to  fail.  Ay, 
my  friend,  it  is  another  Bourbon  bowled  over.  The  age  had 
got  sick  of  vested  interests,  and  wanted  to  show  what  abuses 
they  were;  but  you  and  I  are  bound  to  stand  fast;  we 
cannot  rescue  the  victim,  but  we  must  follow  the  hearse." 

"How  low  and  depressed  you  are  to-night!  What  has 
come  over  you  ?  " 

"I  have  had  a  heav}^  blow,  mio  Carlo.  One  of  those 
pr.pers  whose  envelopes  3^ou  broke  and  handed  to  me  was  a 
private  letter.  It  was  from  Alice  Trafford  to  her  brother; 
and  the  sight  of  my  own  name  in  it  tempted  me  to  see  what 
she  said  of  me.  My  curiosity  has  paid  its  price."  He 
paused  for  some  minutes,  and  then  continued:  "She  wrote 
to  refuse  the  villa  I  had  offered  her,  —  to  refuse  it  peremp- 
torily. She  added:  '  The  story  of  your  friend's  duel  is  more 
public  than  you  seem  to  know.  It  appeared  in  the  "Patrie  '* 
three  weeks  ago,  and  was  partl}^  extracted  by  "Galignani." 
The  provocation  given  was  an  open  declaration  that  Mr. 
Maitland  was  no  Maitland  at  all,  but  the  illegitimate  son 
of   a  well-known   actress,    called   Brancaleone,    the   father 


"THE  BAG  NO.   18."  435 

unkDOwn.  This  outrage  led  to  a  meeting,  and  the  conse- 
quences you  know  of.  The  whole  story  has  this  much  of 
authenticity,  that  it  was  given  to  the  world  with  the  name 
of  the  other  principal,  who  signs  himself  Milo  M'Caskey, 
Lieut. -Col.  in  the  service  of  Naples,  Count,  and  Commander 
of  various  orders.'  She  adds,"  continued  Maitland,  in  a 
shaken  voice,  and  an  effort,  but  yet  a  poor  one,  to  smile, 
—  "she  adds:  '  I  own  I  am  sorry  for  him.  All  his  great 
qualities  and  cultivation  seemed  to  suit  and  dignify  station; 
but  now  that  I  know  his  condition  to  have  been  a  mere 
assumption,  the  man  himself  and  his  talents  are  only  a 
mockery, — only  a  mockery!'  Hard  words  these,  Carlo, 
very  hard  words! 

"And  then  she  says :  '  If  I  had  only  known  him  as  a  pass- 
ing acquaintance,  and  thought  of  him  with  the  same  indiffer- 
ence one  bestows  on  such, -perhaps  I  would  not  now  insist 
so  peremptorily  as  I  do  on  our  ceasing  to  know  him;  but  I 
will  own  to  you,  Mark,  that  he  did  interest  me  greatly.  He 
bad,  or  seemed  to  have,'  — this,  that,  and  t'  other,"  said  he, 
with  an  ill-tempered  haste,  and  went  on.  "  '  But  now,  as  he 
stands  before  me,  with  a  borrowed  name  and  a  mock  rank  — ' 
There  is  half  a  page  more  of  the  same  trash ;  for  this  gentle 
lady  is  a  mistress  of  tierce  words,  and  not  over-merciful, 
and  she  ends  thus :  '  I  think,  if  you  are  adroit,  3'ou  can 
show  him,  in  declining  his  proffered  civilit}^  that  we  had 
strong  reasons  for  our  refusal,  and  that  it  would  be  unpleas- 
ant to  renew  our  former  acquaintance.'  In  fact.  Carlo,  she 
means  to  cut  me.  This  woman,  whose  hand  I  had  held  in 
mine  while  I  declared  my  love,  and  who,  while  she  listened 
to  me,  showed  no  touch  of  displeasure,  affects  now  to  resent 
the  accident  of  my  birth,  and  treat  me  as  an  impostor!  I 
am  half  sorry  that  letter  has  not  reached  its  destination; 
ay,  and,  strange  as  you  will  think  it,  I  am  more  than  half 
tempted  to  write  and  tell  her  that  I  have  read  it.  The  story 
of  the  stolen  despatch  will  soon  be  a  newspaper  scandal, 
and  it  would  impart  marvellous  interest  to  her  reading  it 
when  she  heard  that  her  own  '  private  and  confidential '  was 
captured  in  the  same  net." 

"You  could  not  own  to  such  an  act,  INEaitland." 

"Xo.     If  it  should  not  lead  to  something  further;  but  I 


436  TONY  BUTLER. 

do  yearn  to  repay  her.  She  is  a  haughty  adversary,  and 
well  worth  a  vengeance." 

"What  becomes  of  your  fine  maxim,  '  Never  quarrel  with 
a  woman,'  Maitland?" 

"When  I  uttered  it,  I  had  never  loved  one,"  muttered  he; 
and  they  walked  on  now  in  silence. 

Almost  within  earshot  —  so  close,  indeed,  that  had  they 
not  been  conversing  in  Italian,  some  of  their  words  must 
have  been  overheard  by  those  behind  —  walked  two  other 
friends,  Darner  and  Tony,  in  close  confab. 

"I  must  telegraph  F.  O,"  said  Skeffy,  "that  bag  is  miss- 
ing, and  that  Messenger  Butler  has  gone  home  to  make  his 
report.     Do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

A  grunt  was  the  reply. 

"I  '11  give  you  a  letter  to  Howard  Pendleton,  and  he  '11  tell 
what  is  the  best  thing  to  be  done." 

"I  suspect  I  know  it  already,"  muttered  Tony. 

"If  you  could  only  persuade  my  Lord  to  listen  to  you, 
and  tell  him  the  story  as  you  told  it  to  me,  he  'd  be  more 
than  a  Secretary  of  State  if  he  could  stand  it." 

"I  have  no  great  desire  to  be  laughed  at,  Skeffy." 

"Not  if  it  got  you  out  of  a  serious  scrape,  — a  scrape 
that  may  cost  you  your  appointment?" 

"Not  even  at  that  price." 

"I  can't  understand  that;  it  is  quite  beyond  me.  They 
might  put  me  into  '  Joe  Miller '  to-morrow,  if  they  'd  only 
gazette  me  Secretary  of  Embassy  the  day  after.  But  here  's 
the  hotel;  a  good  sleep  will  set  you  all  right;  and  let  me 
see  you  at  breakfast  as  jolly  as  you  used  to  be." 


CHAPTER  XLVn. 

ADRIFT. 

The  dawn  was  scarcely  breaking  as  Tony  Butler  awoke  and 
set  off  to  visit  the  ships  in  the  port  whose  flags  proclaimed 
them  English.  There  were  full  thirty,  of  various  sizes  and 
rigs;  but  though  many  were  deficient  in  hands,  no  skipper 
seemed  disposed  to  accept  a  young  fellow  who,  if  he  was 
stalwart  and  well  grown,  so  palpably  pertained  to  a  class  to 
which  hard  work  and  coarse  usage  were  strangers. 

"You  ain't  anything  of  a  cook,  are  you?"  asked  one  of 
the  very  few  who  did  not  reject  his  demand  at  once. 

"No,"  said  he,  smiling. 

"Them  hands  of  yours  might  do  something  in  the  caboose, 
but  they  ain't  much  like  reefing  and  clewing  topsails.  Won't 
suit  me.''  And,  thus  discouraged,  he  went  on  from  one 
craft  to  the  other,  surprised  and  mortified  to  discover  that 
one  of  the  resources  he  had  often  pictured  to  his  mind  in 
the  hours  of  despondency  was  just  as  remote,  just  as  much 
above  him,  as  any  of  the  various  callings  his  friends  had  set 
before  him. 

"Not  able  to  be  even  a  sailor!  Not  fit  to  serve  before 
the  mast!  "Well,  perhaps  I  can  caiTy  a  musket;  but  for 
that  I  must  return  to  England." 

He  fell  to  thinking  of  this  new  scheme,  but  without  any  of 
that  hope  that  had  so  often  colored  his  projects.  He  owed 
the  service  a  grudge.  His  father  had  not  been  fairly 
treated  in  it.  So,  at  least,  from  his  very  childhood,  had 
his  mother  taught  him  to  believe,  and,  in  consequence,  vehe- 
mently opposed  all  his  plans  to  obtain  a  commission.  Hard 
necessity,  however,  left  no  room  for  mere  scruples;  some- 
thing he  must  do,  and  that  something  was  narrowed  to  the 
one  single  career  of  a  soldier. 


438  TONY  BUTLER. 

He  was  practical  enough  in  a  certain  sense,  and  he  soon 
resolved  on  his  line  of  action;  he  would  reserve  just  so 
much  as  would  carry  him  back  to  England,  and  remit  the 
remainder  of  what  he  had  to  his  mother. 

This  would  amount  to  nigh  eighty  pounds,  —  a  very  con- 
siderable sum  to  one  whose  life  was  as  inexpensive  as  hers. 
The  real  difficulty  was  how  to  reconcile  her  to  the  thought  of 
his  fallen  condition,  and  the  hardships  she  would  inevitably 
associate  in  her  mind  with  his  future  life.  "Ain't  I  luck}^," 
cried  he  in  his  bitterness,  and  trying  to  make  it  seem  like 
a  consolation,  —  "  ain't  I  lucky,  that,  except  my  poor  dear 
mother,  I  have  not  one  other  in  the  whole  world  to  care 
what  comes  to  me, —  none  other  to  console,  none  other  before 
whom  I  need  plead  or  excuse  m3'self!  My  failure  or  my 
disgrace  are  not  to  spread  a  widecast  sorrow.  They  will 
only  darken  one  fireside,  and  one  figure  in  the  corner  of  it." 

His  heart  was  full  of  Alice  all  the  while,  but  he  was  too 
proud  to  utter  her  name  even  to  himself.  To  have  made  a 
resolve,  however,  seemed  to  rally  his  courage  again;  and 
when  the  boatman  asked  him  where  he  should  go  next,  he 
was  so  far  away  in  his  thoughts  that  he  had  some  diflSculty 
to  remember  what  he  had  been  actually  engaged  in. 

"Where  to?" 

"Well,  I  can't  well  tell  you,"  said  he,  laughing.  "Isn't 
that  schooner  English,  —  that  one  getting  underway  yonder? 
Shove  me  aboard  of  her." 

"She's  outward  bound,  sir." 

"No  matter,  if  they  '11  agree  to  take  me,"  muttered  he  to 
himself. 

The  craft  was  "hauling  short"  on  the  anchor  as  Tony 
came  alongside  and  learned  that  she  was  about  to  sail  for 
Leghorn,  having  failed  in  obtaining  a  freight  at  Naples; 
and  as  by  an  accident  one  of  the  crew  had  been  left  on 
shore,  the  skipper  was  too  willing  to  take  Tony  so  far, 
though  looking,  as  he  remarked,  far  more  like  a  swell  lands- 
man than  an  ordinary  seaman. 

Once  outside  the  bay,  and  bowling  along  with  a  smart 
breeze  and  a  calm  sea,  the  rushing  water  making  pleasant 
music  at  the  bow,  while  the  helm  left  a  long  white  track 
some  feet  down  beneath  the  surface,  Tony  felt,  what  so 


ADRIFT.  439 

many  others  have  felt,  the  glorious  elation  of  being  at  sea. 
How  many  a  care  ''blue  water"  can  assuage,  how  many  a 
sorrow  is  made  bearable  by  the  fresh  breeze  that  strains  the 
cordage,  and  the  laughing  waves  we  cleave  through  so  fast! 

A  few  very  eventful  days,  in  which  Tony's  life  passed  les3 
like  reality  than  a  mere  dream,  brought  them  to  Leghorn; 
and  the  skipper,  who  had  taken  a  sort  of  rough  liking  to  the 
"Swell,"  as  he  still  called  him,  offered  to  take  him  on  to 
Liverpool,  if  he  were  willing  to  enter  himself  regularly  on 
the  ship's  books  as  one  of  the  crew. 

"I  am  quite  read}^,"  said  Tony,  who  thought  by  the  time 
the  brief  voyage  was  completed  he  should  have  picked  up 
enough  of  the  practice  and  the  look  of  a  sailor  to  obtain 
another  emplo^mient  easily. 

Accompanied  by  the  skipper,  he  soon  found  himself  in 
the  consul's  office,  crowded  with  sailors  and  other  maritime 
folk,  busily  engaged  in  preferring  complaints  or  making 
excuses,  or  as  eagerl}^  asking  for  relief  against  this  or  that 
exaction  on  the  part  of  the  foreign  government. 

The  consul  sat  smoking  his  cigar  with  a  friend  at  a  win- 
dow, little  heeding  the  turmoil  around,  but  leaving  the 
charge  of  the  various  difficulties  to  his  clerks,  who  only 
referred  to  him  on  some  special  occasions. 

"Here's  a  man,  sir,"  cried  one  of  the  clerks,  "who 
wishes  to  be  entered  in  the  ship's  books  under  an  assumed 
name.     I  have  told  him  it  can't  be  done." 

"Why  does  he  ask  it?  Is  he  a  runaway  convict?  "  asked 
the  consul. 

"Not  exactly,"  said  Tony,  laughing;  "but  as  I  have  not 
been  brought  up  before  the  mast,  and  I  have  a  f'^w  relatives 
who  might  not  like  to  hear  of  me  in  that  station  —  "  i 

"A  scamp,  I  take,"  broke  in  the  consul,  "who,  having 
done  his  worst  on  shore,  takes  to  the  sea  for  a  refuge  ?  " 

"Partly  right,  — partly  wrong,"  was  the  dry  answer. 

"Well,  my  smart  fellow,  there  's  no  help  for  it.  You 
must  give  your  name  and  your  birthplace;  and  if  they 
should  prove  false  ones,  take  any  consequences  that  might 
result." 

"What  sort  of  consequences  might  these  be?"  asked 
Tony,  calmly;  and  the  consul,  having  either  spoken  with- 


440  TONY  BUTLER. 

out  any  distinct  knowledge  attached  to  his  words,  or  pro- 
voked by  the  pertinacity  of  the  question,  half  irritably 
answered:  "I  've  no  time  to  throw  away  in  discussing  cas- 
ualties; give  your  name  or  go  your  way." 

"Yes,  yes,"  murmured  the  skipper.  "Who  knows  any- 
thing about  you  down  here?  —  Just  sign  the  sheet  and  let 's 
be  moving." 

The  sort  of  good-humored  tone  and  look  that  went  with 
the  words  decided  Tony,  and  he  took  the  pen  and  wrote 
"Tony  Butler,  Ireland." 

The  consul  glanced  at  the  writing,  and  said,  "  What  part 
of  Ireland?    Name  a  town  or  a  village." 

"I  cannot;  my  father  was  a  soldier,  quartered  in  various 
places,  and  I  'm  not  sure  in  what  part  of  the  island  I  was 
born." 

'•  Tony  Butler  means  Anthony  Butler,  I  suppose  ?  " 

''Tony  Butler!  "  cried  the  consul's  friend,  suddenly  start- 
ing up,  and  coming  forward;  ''did  you  say  your  name  was 
Tony  Butler?" 

"Yes;  that  is  my  name." 

"And  are  you  from  the  North  of  Ireland, — near  the 
Causeway  ?  " 

Tony  nodded,  while  a  flush  of  shame  at  the  recognition 
covered  his  face. 

"And  do  you  know  Dr.  Stewart,  the  Presbyterian  minis- 
ter in  that  neighborhood  ?  " 

"I  should  think  so.  The  Burnside,  where  he  lives,  is  not 
above  a  mile  from  us." 

"That's  it, — the  Burnside, — that's  the  name  of  it. 
I  'm  as  glad  as  fifty  pounds  in  my  pocket  to  see  you,  Mr. 
Butler,"  cried  he,  grasping  Tony's  hand  in  both  his  own. 
"There  's  not  a  man  from  this  to  England  I  'd  as  soon  have 
met  as  yourself.  I  'm  Sam  M'Gruder,  Robert  M'Gruder's 
brother.     You  haven't  forgot  him^  I  hope?  " 

"That  I  haven't,"  cried  Tony,  warmly  returning  the 
honest  pressure  of  the  other's  hand.  "What  a  stupid  dog 
I  have  been  not  to  remember  that  you  lived  here!  and  I  have 
a  letter  for  you,  too,  from  your  brother !  " 

"I  want  no  letter  of  introduction  with  you^  Mr.  Butler; 
come  home  with  me.     You  're  not  going  to  sea  this  time;  " 


ADRIFT.  441 

and,  taking  a  pen,  he  drew  a  broad  line  of  ink  across 
Tonj^'s  name;  and  then  turning,  he  whispered  a  few  words 
in  the  consul's  ear. 

"I  hope,"  said  the  consul,  "Mr.  Butler  is  not  offended  at 
the  freedom  with  which  I  commented  on  him." 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Tony,  laughing.  "I  thought  at 
the  time,  if  you  knew  me  you  would  not  have  liked  to  have 
suggested  my  having  been  a  runaway  convict;  and  now 
that  you  do  know  me,  the  shame  you  feel  is  more  than 
enough  to  punish  you." 

"AVhat  could  have  induced  you  to  go  before  the  mast, 
Mr.  Butler?"   said  M'Gruder,  as  he  led  Tony  away. 

"Sheer  necessity.     1  wanted  to  earn  my  bread." 

"But  you  had  got  something,  — some  place  or  other?" 

"I  was  a  messenger,  but  I  lost  my  despatches,  and  was 
ashamed  to  go  home  and  say  so." 

"Will  you  stop  with  me?  AVill  you  be  a  clerk?  "  asked 
the  other;  and  a  certain  timidity  in  his  voice  showed  that 
he  was  not  quite  assured  as  he  spoke.  "My  business  is 
like  my  brother's,  —  we  're  '  in  rags.'  " 

"  And  so  should  I  be  in  a  few  days,"  laughed  out  Tony, 
"  if  I  had  n't  met  j^ou.  I  '11  be  your  clerk,  with  a  heart  and 
a  half,  —  that  is,  if  I  be  capable ;  only  don't  give  me  any- 
thing where  money  enters,  and  as  little  writing  as  possible, 
and  no  arithmetic,  if  you  can  help  it." 

"  That  will  be  a  strange  sort  of  clerkship,"  said  M'Gruder, 
with  a  smile  ;   "  but  we  '11  see  what  can  be  done." 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

'^IN    RAGS." 

If  Tony  Butler's  success  in  bis  new  career  only  depended  on 
his  zeal,  he  would  have  been  a  model  clerk.  Never  did  any 
one  address  himself  to  a  new  undertaking  with  a  stronger 
resolution  to  comprehend  all  its  details,  and  conquer  all  its 
ditficulties.  First  of  all,  he  desired  to  show  his  gratitude  to 
the  good  fellow  who  had  helped  him ;  and  secondly,  he  was 
eager  to  prove,  if  proven  it  could  be,  that  he  was  not  utterly 
incapable  of  earning  his  bread,  nor  one  of  those  hopeless 
creatures  who  are  doomed  from  their  birth  to  be  a  burden  to 
others. 

So  long  as  his  occupation  led  him  out  of  doors,  conveying 
orders  here  and  directions  there,  he  got  on  pretty  well.  He 
soon  picked  up  a  sort  of  Italian  of  his  own,  intelligible 
enough  to  those  accustomed  to  it;  and  as  he  was  alert, 
active,  and  untiring,  he  looked,  at  least,  a  most  valuable 
assistant.  Whenever  it  came  to  indoor  work  and  the  pen, 
his  heart  sank  within  him  ;  he  knew  that  his  hour  of  trial  had 
come,  and  he  had  no  strength  to  meet  it.  He  would  mistake 
the  letter-book  for  the  ledger  or  the  day-book  ;  and  he  would 
make  entries  in  one  which  should  have  been  in  the  other,  and 
then,  worst  of  all,  erase  them,  or  append  an  explanation  of 
his  blunder  that  would  fill  half  a  page  with  inscrutable 
blottedness. 

As  to  payments,  he  jotted  them  down  anywhere,  and  in 
his  anxiety  to  compose  confidential  letters  with  due  care,  he 
would  usually  make  three  or  four  rough  drafts  of  the  matter, 
quite  sufficient  to  impart  the  contents  to  the  rest  of  the  ofliice. 

Sam  M'Gruder  bore  nobly  up  under  these  trials.  He 
sometimes  laughed  at  the  mistakes,  did  his  best  to  remedy, 
—  never  rebuked  them.     At  last,  as  he  saw  that  poor  Tony's 


"IN  RAGS."  443 

difficulties,  instead  of  diminishing,  only  increased  with  time, 
inasmuch  as  his  despair  of  himself  led  him  into  deeper 
embarrassments,  M'Gruder  determined  Tony  should  be  en- 
tirely employed  in  journeys  and  excursions  here  and  there 
through  the  country,  — an  occupation,  it  is  but  fair  to  own, 
invented  to  atford  him  emplo^^ment,  rather  than  necessitated 
by  any  demands  of  the  business.  Not  that  Tony  had  the 
vaguest  suspicion  of  this.  Indeed,  he  wrote  to  his  mother  a 
letter  filled  with  an  account  of  his  active  and  useful  labors. 
Proud  was  he  at  last  to  say  that  he  was  no  longer  eating  the 
bread  of  idleness.  "I  am  up  before  dawn,  mother,  and 
very  often  have  nothing  to  eat  but  a  mess  of  Indian  corn 
steeped  in  oil,  not  unlike  what  Sir  Arthur  used  to  fatten  the 
bullocks  with,  the  whole  livelong  day  ;  and  sometimes  I  have 
to  visit  places  there  are  no  roads  to ;  nearly  all  the  villages 
are  on  the  tops  of  the  mountains ;  but,  by  good  luck,  I  am 
never  beat  by  a  long  walk,  and  I  do  my  forty  miles  a  day 
without  minding  it. 

"  If  I  could  only  forget  the  past,  dearest  mother,  or  think 
it  nothing  but  a  dream,  I  'd  never  quarrel  with  the  life  I  am 
now  leading ;  for  I  have  xjlenty  of  open  air,  mountain  walk- 
ing, abundance  of  time  to  myself,  and  rough  fellows  to  deal 
with,  that  amuse  me ;  but  when  I  am  tramping  along  with 
my  cigar  in  my  mouth,  I  can't  help  thinking  of  long  ago,  — 
of  the  rides  at  sunset  on  the  sands,  and  all  the  hopes  and 
fancies  I  used  to  bring  home  with  me,  after  them.  Well !  it 
is  over  now,  —  just  as  much  done  for  as  if  the  time  had  never 
been  at  all ;  and  I  suppose,  after  a  while,  I  '11  learn  to  bear 
it  better,  and  think,  as  you  often  told  me,  that  '  all  things 
are  for  the  best.' 

"  I  feel  my  own  condition  more  painfully  when  I  come 
back  here,  and  have  to  sit  a  whole  evening  listening  to  Sam 
M'Gruder  talking  about  Dolly  Stewart  and  the  plans  about 
their  marriage.  The  poor  fellow  is  so  full  of  it  all  that 
even  the  important  intelligence  I  have  for  him  he  won't  hear, 
but  will  say,  '  Another  time,  Tony,  another  time,  —  let  us 
chat  about  Dolly.'  One  thing  I  '11  swear  to,  she  '11  have  the 
honestest  fellow  for  her  husband  that  ever  stepped,  and  tell 
her  I  said  so.  Sam  would  take  it  very  kindly  of  you  if  you 
could  get  Dolly  to  agree  to  their  being  married  in  March. 


444  TONY  BUTLER. 

It  is  the  only  time  he  can  manage  a  trip  to  England,  —  not 
but,  as  he  says,  whatever  time  Dolly  consents  to  shall  be 
his  time. 

"He  shows  me  her  letters  sometimes,  and  though  he  is 
half  wild  with  delight  at  them,  I  tell  you  frankly,  mother, 
they  would  n't  satisfy  me  if  I  was  her  lover.  She  writes 
more  like  a  creature  that  was  resigned  to  a  hard  lot,  than 
one  that  was  about  to  marry  a  man  she  loved.  Sam,  how- 
ever, does  n't  seem  to  take  this  view  of  her,  and  so  much 
the  better. 

''  There  was  one  thing  in  your  last  letter  that  puzzled  me, 
and  puzzles  me  still.  Why  did  Dolly  ask  if  I  was  likely 
to  remain  here?  The  way  you  put  it  makes  me  think  that 
she  was  deferring  the  marriage  till  such  time  as  I  was  gone. 
If  I  really  believed  this  to  be  the  case,  I'd  go  away  to- 
morrow, though  I  don't  know  well  where  to,  or  what  for, 
but  it  is  hard  to  understand,  since  I  always  thought  that 
Dolly  liked  me,  as  certainly  I  ever  did,  and  still  do,  her. 

"  Try  and  clear  up  this  for  me  in  your  next.  I  suppose 
it  was  by  way  of  what  is  called  '  sparing  me,'  you  said 
nothing  of  the  Lj^les  in  your  last,  but  I  saw  in  the  '  Morning 
Post '  all  about  the  departure  for  the  Continent,  intending 
to  reside  some  years  in  Italy. 

"  And  that  is  more  than  I  'd  do  if  I  owned  Lyle  Abbey, 
and  had  eighteen  blood-horses  in  my  stable,  and  a  clipper 
cutter  in  the  Bay  of  Curr^'glass.  I  suppose  the  truth  is, 
people  never  do  know  when  they  're  well  off." 

The  moral  reflection,  not  arrived  at  so  easily  or  so  rapidly 
as  the  reader  can  imagine,  concluded  Tony's  letter,  to  which 
in  due  time  came  a  long  answer  from  his  mother.  With  the 
home  gossip  we  shall  not  burden  the  reader,  nor  shall  we 
ask  of  him  to  go  through  the  short  summary  —  four  close 
pages  —  of  the  doctor's  discourses  on  the  text,  "  I  would  ye 
were  hot  or  cold,"  two  sensations  that  certainly  the  mere 
sight  of  the  exposition  occasioned  to  Tony.  We  limit  our- 
selves to  the  words  of  the  postscript. 

"  I  cannot  understand  Dolly  at  all,  and  I  am  afraid  to 
mislead  yon  as  to  what  yow  ask.  My  impression  is  —  but 
mind,  it  is  mere  impression  —  she  has  grown  somewhat  out 
of  her  old  friendship  for  you.     Some  stories  possibly  have 


"IN  RAGS."  445 

represented  you  in  a  wrong  light,  and  T  half  think  you  may 
be  right,  and  that  she  would  be  less  averse  to  the  niai-riage 
if  she  knew  you  were  not  to  be  in  the  house  with  them.  It 
was,  indeed,  only  this  morning  the  doctor  said,  '  Young 
married  folk  should  aye  learn  each  other's  failings  without 
bystanders  to  observe  them,' — a  significant  hint  I  thought 
I  would  write  to  you  by  this  post." 

When  Tony  received  his  epistle,  he  was  seated  in  his  own 
room,  leisurely  engaged  in  deciphering  a  paragraph  in  an 
Italian  newspaper,  descriptive  of  Garibaldi's  departure  from 
a  little  bay  near  Genoa  to  his  Sicilian  expedition. 

Nothing  short  of  a  letter  from  his  mother  could  have  with- 
drawn his  attention  from  a  description  so  full  of  intense 
interest  to  him ;  and  partly,  indeed,  from  this  cause,  and 
partly  from  the  hard  labor  of  rendering  the  foreign  language, 
the  details  stuck  in  his  mind  during  all  the  time  he  was 
reading  his  mother's  words. 

"  So  that 's  the  secret,  is  it?  "  muttered  he.  "  Dolly  wishes 
to  be  alone  with  her  husband,  — natural  enough;  and  I'm 
not  the  man  to  oppose  it.  I  hope  she  '11  be  happy,  poor 
girl ;  and  I  hope  Garibaldi  will  beat  the  Neapolitans.  I  'm 
sure  Sam  is  worthy  of  a  good  wife ;  but  I  don't  know 
whether  these  Sicilian  fellows  deserve  a  better  government. 
At  all  events,  my  course  is  clear,  —  here  I  mustn't  stay. 
Sam  does  not  know  that  I  am  the  obstacle  to  his  marriage ; 
but  /  know  it,  and  that  is  enough.  I  wonder  would  Gari- 
baldi take  me  as  a  volunteer?  There  cannot  be  much  choice 
at  such  a  time.  I  suppose  he  enrolls  whoever  offers ;  and 
they  must  be  mostly  fellows  of  my  own  sort,  —  useless  dogs, 
that  are  only  fit  to  give  and  take  hard  knocks." 

He  hesitated  long  whether  he  should  tell  Sam  M'Gruder 
of  his  project ;  he  well  knew  all  the  opposition  he  should 
meet,  and  how  stoutly  his  friend  would  set  himself  against 
a  plan  so  fatal  to  all  habits  of  patient  industry.  "  And 
yet,"  muttered  Tony  to  himself,  "  I  don't  lilce  to  tell  him 
that  I  hate  '  rags,'  and  detest  the  whole  business.  It  would 
be  so  ungrateful  of  me.  I  could  say  my  mother  wanted  to 
see  me  in  Ireland ;  but  I  never  told  him  a  lie,  and  I  can't 
bear  that  our  parting  should  be  sealed  with  a  falsehood." 

As  he  pondered,  he  took  out  his    pistols  and  examined 


446  TONY  BETLER. 

them  carefully ;  and,  poising  one  neatly  in  his  hand,  he 
raised  it,  as  marksmen  sometimes  will  do,  to  take  an  im- 
aginary aim.  As  he  did  so,  M'Gruder  entered,  and  cried 
out,  laughing,  "  Is  he  covered,  —  is  he  dead? " 

Tony  laid  down  the  weapon,  with  a  flush  of  shame,  and 
said,  "After  all,  M'Gruder,  the  pistol  is  more  natural  to 
me  than  the  pen ;  and  it  was  just  what  I  was  going  to  con- 
fess to  you." 

"  You  're  not  going  to  take  to  the  highways,  though?  " 

"  Something  not  very  unlike  it;  I  mean  to  go  and  have  a 
turn  with  Garibaldi." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  know  about  Garibaldi  or  his  cause?  " 

"Perhaps  not  a  great  deal;  but  I've  been  spelling  out 
these  newspapers  every  night,  and  one  thing  is  clear,  whether 
he  has  right  or  wrong  on  his  side,  the  heavy  odds  are  all 
against  him.  He 's  going  in  to  fight  regular  troops,  with  a 
few  hundred  trampers.     Now  I  call  that  very  plucky." 

"So  do  I;  but  courage  may  go  on  to  rashness,  and  be- 
come folly." 

"Well,  I  feel  as  if  a  little  rashness  will  do  me  a  deal  of 
good.  I  am  too  well  off  here,  —  too  easy,  —  too  much  cared 
for.  Life  asks  no  effort,  and  I  make  none ;  and  if  I  go  on 
a  little  longer,  I'll  be  capable  of  none." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  other,  laughing,  "  Rags  do  not  rouse 
your  ambition,  Tony." 

"  I  don't  know  what  would, —  that  is,  I  don't  think  I  have 
any  ambition  now ;  "  and  there  was  a  touch  of  sorrow  in 
the  last  word  that  gave  all  the  force  to  what  he  said. 

"At  all  events,  you  are  tired  of  this  sort  of  tiling,"  said 
the  other,  good-humoredly,  "and  it 's  not  to  be  much  won- 
dered at.  Y"ou  began  life  at  what  my  father  used  to  call 
'  the  wrong  end.'  Y"ou  started  on  the  sunny  side  of  the 
road,  Tony,  and  it  is  precious  hard  to  cross  over  into  the 
shade  afterwards." 

"  You  're  right  there,  M'Gruder.  I  led  the  jolliest  life 
that  ever  man  did  till  I  was  upwards  of  twenty ;  but  I  don't 
believe  I  ever  knew  how  glorious  it  was  till  it  was  over ;  but 
I  must  n't  think  of  that  now.  See !  this  is  what  I  mean  to 
do.  Y'ou'U  find  some  way  to  send  that  safely  to  my  mother. 
There  's  forty-odd  pounds  in  it,  and  I  'd  rather  it  was  not 


i 


"IN  RAGS."  447 

lost.  I  have  kept  enough  to  buy  a  good  rifle  —  a  heavy 
Swiss  one,  if  I  can  find  it  —  and  a  sword-bayonet,  and  with 
these  I  am  fully  equipped." 

"Come,  come,  Tony,  I'll  not  hear  of  this;  that  you  are 
well  weary  of  the  life  you  lead  here  is  not  hard  to  see,  nor 
any  blame  to  you  either,  old  fellow.  One  must  be  brought 
up  to  Rags,  like  everything  else,  and  you  were  not.  But 
my  brother  writes  me  about  starting  an  American  agency, 
—  what  do  you  say  to  going  over  to  New  York?  " 

"What  a  good  fellow  you  are!"  cried  Tony,  staring  at 
him  till  his  eyes  began  to  grow  clouded  with  tears  ;  "  what 
a  good  fellow !  you  'd  risk  your  ship  just  to  give  me  a  turn 
at  the  tiller!  But  it  mustn't  be,  — it  cannot  be;  I'm  bent 
on  this  scheme  of  mine,  —  I  have  determined  on  it." 

"  Since  when?  since  last  night?" 

"Well,  it's  not  very  long,  certainly,  since  I  made  up  my 
mind." 

The  other  smiled.  Tony  saw  it,  and  went  on:  "I  know 
what  you  mean.  You  are  of  old  Stewart's  opinion.  When 
be  heard  me  once  say  I  had  made  up  my  mind,  he  said,  '  It 
does  n't  take  long  to  make  up  a  small  parcel ;  '  but  every 
fellow,  more  or  less,  knows  what  he  can  and  what  he  cannot 
do.  Now  I  cannot  be  orderly,  exact,  and  punctual,  —  even 
the  little  brains  I  have  I  can't  be  sure  of  keeping  them  on 
the  matter  before  me ;  but  I  defy  a  horse  to  throw  me  ;  I  '11 
bring  you  up  a  crown-piece  out  of  six  fathoms  water,  if  it's 
clear ;  I  '11  kill  four  swallows  out  of  six  with  a  ball ;  and 
though  tliesG  are  not  gifts  to  earn  one's  bread  by,  the  man 
that  has  them  need  n't  starve." 

"If  I  thought  that  you  had  really  reflected  well  over  this 
plan,  —  given  it  all  the  thought  and  consideration  it 
required  —  " 

"I  have  given  it  just  as  much  consideration  as  if  I  took 
five  weeks  to  it.  A  man  may  take  an  evening  over  a  pint 
of  ale,  but  it's  only  a  pint,  after  all, — don't  you  see 
that?" 

M'Gruder  was  puzzled;  perhaps  there  was  some  force  in 
the  illustration.  Tony  looked  certainly  as  if  he  thought 
he  had  said  a  clever  thing. 

"Well,  Tony,"  said  the  other,  after  a  moment  of  grave 


448  TONY  BUTLER. 

thought,  "you  '11  have  to  go  to  Genoa  to  embark,  I 
suppose? " 

"Yes;  the  committee  sits  at  Genoa,  and  every  one  who 
enrolls  must  appear  before  them." 

"You  could  walk  there  in  four  days." 

"Y^'es;  but  I  can  steam  it  in  one." 

"Ay,  true  enough;  what  I  mean  to  ask  of  you  is  this, 
that  you  will  go  the  whole  way  on  foot;  a  good  walker  as 
you  are  won't  think  much  of  that;  and  in  these  four  days, 
as  you  travel  along,  —  all  alone,  —  you  '11  have  plenty  of 
time  to  think  over  your  project.  If  by  the  time  you  reach 
Genoa  you  like  it  as  well  as  ever,  I  've  no  more  to  say ;  but 
if  —  and  mark  me,  Tony,  you  must  be  honest  with  your  own 
heart  —  if  you  really  have  your  doubts  and  your  misgiv- 
ings; if  you  feel  that  for  your  poor  mother's  sake  —  " 

"There,  there!  I've  thought  of  all  that,"  cried  Tony, 
hurriedly.  "I'll  make  the  journey  on  foot,  as  you  say  you 
wish  it,  but  don't  open  the  thing  to  any  more  discussion. 
If  I  relent,  I  '11  come  back.     There  's  my  hand  on  it!  " 

"Tony,  it  gives  me  a  sad  heart  to  part  with  you;  "  and  he 
turned  away,  and  stole  out  of  the  room. 

"Now,  I  believe  it's  all  done,"  said  Tony,  after  he  had 
packed  his  knapsack,  and  stored  by  in  his  trunk  what  he 
intended  to  leave  behind  him.  There  were  a  few  things 
there,  too,  that  had  their  own  memories!  There  was  the 
green  silk  cap,  with  its  gold  tassel,  Alice  had  given  him  on 
his  last  steeple-chase.  Ah,  how  it  brought  back  the  leap 
—  a  bold  leap  it  was  —  into  the  winning  field,  and  Alice,  as 
she  stood  up  and  waved  her  handkerchief  as  he  passed! 
There  was  a  glove  of  hers;  she  had  thrown  it  down  sport- 
ively on  the  sands,  and  dared  him  to  take  it  up  in  full 
career  of  his  horse;  he  remembered  they  had  a  quarrel 
because  he  claimed  the  glove  as  a  prize,  and  refused  to 
restore  it  to  her.  There  was  an  evening  after  that  in  which 
she  would  not  speak  to  him.  He  had  carried  a  heavy  heart 
home  with  him  that  night!  What  a  fund  of  love  the  heart 
must  be  capable  of  feeling  for  a  living,  sentient  thing,  when 
we  see  how  it  can  cling  to  some  object  inanimate  and 
irresponsive.  "I'll  take  that  glove  with  me,"  muttered 
Tony  to  himself;  "it  owes  me  some  good  luck;  who  knows 
but  it  may  pay  me  yet?  " 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 

MET    AND    PARTED. 

Tony  went  on  his  way  early  next  morning,  stealing  off  ere 
it  was  yet  light,  for  he  hated  leave-takings,  and  felt  that 
they  weighed  upon  him  for  many  a  mile  of  a  journey. 
There  was  enough  on  the  road  he  travelled  to  have  interested 
and  amused  him,  but  his  heart  was  too  full  of  its  own 
cares,  and  his  mind  too  deep  in  its  own  plans,  to  dispose 
him  to  such  pleasures,  and  so  he  passed  through  little 
villages  on  craggy  eminences  and  quaint  old  towers  on 
mountain-tops,  scarcely  observing  them.  Even  Pisa,  with 
its  world-known  Tower,  and  the  gem-like  Baptistery  beside 
it,  scarce  attracted  notice  from  him,  though  he  muttered  as 
he  passed,  "Perhaps  on  some  happier  day  I'll  be  able  to  come 
back  here  and  admire  it."  And  so  onward  he  plodded 
through  the  grand  old  ruined  Massa  and  the  silent  Sarzana, 
whose  palaces  display  the  quarterings  of  old  crusading 
knights,  with  many  an  emblem  of  the  Holy  War;  and  by 
the  beauteous  Bay  of  Spezia  he  went,  not  stopping  to  see 
poor  Shelley's  home,  and  the  terrace  where  his  midnight 
steps  had  almost  worn  a  track.  The  road  now  led  through 
the  declining  ridges  of  the  Apennines,  gorgeous  in  color, 
■ —  such  color  as  art  would  have  scarce  dared  to  counterfeit, 
so  emerald  the  dark  green  of  the  waving  pines,  so  silver-like 
the  olive,  so  gloriously  purple  the  great  cliffs  of  porphyry; 
and  then  through  many  a  riven  cleft,  through  feathery 
foliage  and  broad-leaved  fig-trees,  down  many  a  fathom 
low  the  sea!  —  the  blue  Mediterranean,  so  blue  as  to  seem 
another  sky  of  deeper  meaning  than  the  one  above  it. 

He  noticed  little  of  all  these;  he  felt  none  of  them!  It 
was  now  the  third  day  of  his  journey,  and  though  he  had 
scarcely  uttered  a  word,  and  been  deeply  intent  on  his  own 

29 


450  TONY  BUTLER. 

fate,  all  that  his  thinking  had  done  was  to  lead,  as  it  were, 
into  some  boundless  prairie,  and  there  desert  him. 

"I  suppose,"  muttered  he  to  himself,  '^I  am  one  of  those 
creatures  that  must  never  presume  to  plan  anything,  but 
take  each  day's  life  as  I  find  it.  And  I  could  do  this.  Ay, 
I  could  do  it  manfully,  too,  if  I  were  not  carrying  along 
with  rae  memories  of  long  ago.  It  is  Alice,  the  thought  of 
Alice,  that  dashes  the  present  with  a  contrast  to  the  past, 
and  makes  all  I  now  attempt  so  poor  and  valueless." 

As  the  road  descends  from  Borghetto,  there  is  a  sudden 
bend,  from  which,  through  a  deep  cleft,  the  little  beach  and 
village  of  Levanto  are  seen  hundreds  of  feet  beneath,  but 
yet  in  that  clear  still  atmosphere  so  near  that  not  only  the 
white  foam  of  the  breaking  wave  could  be  seen,  but  its 
rhythm-like  plash  heard  as  it  broke  upon  the  beach.  For 
the  first  time  since  he  set  out  had  the  charm  of  scenery 
attracted  him,  and,  descending  a  few  feet  from  the  road, 
he  reached  a  large  square  rock,  from  which  he  could  com- 
mand the  whole  view  for  miles  on  every  side. 

He  took  out  his  bread  and  cheese  and  a  melon  he  had 
bought  that  morning,  and  disposed  himself  to  eat  his  dinner. 
He  had  often  partaken  of  a  more  sumptuous  meal,  but  never 
had  he  eaten  with  so  glorious  a  prospect  at  his  feet. 

A  little  lateen-sailed  boat  stole  out  from  beneath  the  olives 
and  gained  the  sea;  and  as  Tony  watched  her,  he  thought 
if  he  would  only  have  been  a  fisherman  there,  and  Alice  his 
wife,  how  little  he  could  have  envied  all  that  the  world  has 
of  wealth  and  honors  and  ambitions.  His  friend  Skeffy 
could  not  do  this,  but  he  could.  He  was  strong  of  limb  and 
stout  of  heart;  he  could  bear  hardships  and  cold;  and  it 
would  be  so  fine  to  think  that,  born  gentleman  as  he  was, 
he  never  flinched  from  the  hardest  toil,  or  repined  at  the 
roughest  fare,  he  and  Alice  treasuring  up  their  secret,  and 
hoarding  it  as  a  miser  hoards  his  gold. 

Ay,  down  there,  in  that  little  gorge,  with  the  pine-wood 
behind  and  the  sea  before,  he  could  have  passed  liis  life, 
with  never  a  longing  thought  for  the  great  world  and  its 
prizes.  As  he  ran  on  thus  in  fancy,  he  never  heard  the 
sound  of  footsteps  on  the  road  above,  nor  noticed  the  voices 
of  persons  talking. 


MET  AND   PARTED.  451 

At  last  he  heard,  not  the  words,  but  the  tone  of  the 
speakers,  and  recognized  them  to  be  English.  There  is 
that  peculiar  sound  in  ILuglish  utterance  that  at  once  dis- 
tinguishes it  from  all  other  speech;  and  Tony,  quite  for- 
getting that  his  high'-peaked  Calabrian  hat  and  massive 
beard  made  him  far  more  like  an  Italian  brigand  than  a 
British  gentleman,  not  wishing  to  be  observed,  never  turned 
bis  head  to  look  at  them.  At  last  one  said,  "The  little 
fishing-village  below  there  must  be  Levanto.  John  Murray 
tells  us  that  this  is  the  land  of  the  fan  palm  and  the  cactus, 
so  that  at  length  we  are  in  Italy." 

''Do  you  know  —  shall  I  confess  it,"  said  the  other,  "that 
lam  not  thinking  of  the  view,  beautiful  as  it  is?  I  am 
envying  that  peasant  with  his  delicious  melon  on  the  rock 
there.     I  am  half  tempted  to  ask  him  to  share  it  with  me." 

"Ask  him,  by  all  means,"  said  the  first  speaker,  laughing. 

"You  are  jesting,"  replied  the  other,  "but  I  am  in  sober 
earnest.  I  can  resist  no  longer.  Do  you,  however,  wait 
here,  or  the  carriage  may  pass  on  and  leave  us  behind." 

Tony  heard  nothing  of  these  words;  but  be  heard  the 
light  footsteps,  and  he  heard  the  rustle  of  a  woman's  dress 
as  she  forced  her  way,  through  bramble  and  underwood,  till 
at  last,  with  that  consciousness  so  mysterious,  he  felt  there 
was  some  one  standing  close  behind  him.  Half  vexed  to 
think  that  his  isolation  should  be  invaded,  he  drew  his  hat 
deeper  over  his  e^^es,  and  sat  steadfastly  gazing  on  the  sea 
below  him. 

"Is  that  Levanto  I  see  beneath  that  cliff?"  asked  she,  in 
Italian,  —  less  to  satisfy  her  curiosity  than  to  attract  his 
attention. 

Tony  started.  How  intensely  had  his  brain  been  charged 
with  thoughts  of  long  ago,  that  every  word  that  met  his 
ears  should  seem  impregnated  with  these  memories!  A  half- 
sulky  "Si"  was,  however,  his  only  rejoinder. 

"\Yhat  a  fine  melon  you  have  there,  my  friend!"  said 
she;  and  now  her  voice  thrilled  through  him  so  strangely 
that  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  turned  to  face  her.  "Is  my 
brain  tricking  me?  —  are  my  senses  wandering?  "  muttered 
he  to  himself.     "Alice,  Alice!" 

"Yes,  Tony,"  cried  she.     "Who  ever  heard  of  so  strange 


452  TONY  BUTLER. 

a  raeetiDg  ?  How  came  you  here  ?  Speak,  or  I  shall  be  as 
incredulous  as  yourself!  "  But  Touy  could  not  utter  a  word, 
but  stood  overwhelmed  with  wonder,  silently  gazing  on 
her. 

'"Speak  to  me,  Tony,"  said  she,  in  her  soft  winning 
voice,  —  "speak  to  me;  tell  me  by  what  curious  fortune  j'ou 
came  here.  Let  us  sit  down  on  this  bank;  our  carriage  is 
toiling  up  the  hill,  and  will  not  be  here  for  some  time." 

"So  it  is  not  a  dream!  "  sighed  he,  as  he  sat  down  beside 
her.  "I  have  so  little  faith  in  my  brain  that  I  could  not 
trust  it." 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  his  bewilderment  still  remained ; 
and  so,  with  a  woman's  tact,  she  addressed  herself  to  talk- 
ing of  what  would  gradually  lead  his  thoughts  into  a  col- 
lected shape.  She  told  how  they  were  all  on  their  way  to 
the  South,  — Naples  or  Palermo,  not  certain  which,  — some- 
where for  climate,  as  Isabella  was  still  delicate.  That  her 
father  and  mother  and  sister  were  some  miles  behind  on  the 
road,  she  having  come  on  more  rapidly  with  a  lighter  car- 
riage. "Not  all  alone,  though.  Master  Tony;  don't  put  on 
that  rebukeful  face.  The  lady  you  see  yonder  on  the  road 
is  what  is  called  my  companion,  — the  English  word  for 
duenna;  and  I  half  think  I  am  scandalizing  her  ver}^  much 
by  this  conduct  of  mine,  sitting  down  on  the  grass  with  a 
brigand  chief,  and,  I  was  going  to  sa}',  sharing  his  break- 
fast, though  I  have  to  confess  it  never  occurred  to  him  to 
offer  it.  Come,  Tony,  get  up,  and  let  me  present  you  to 
her,  and  relieve  her  mind  of  the  terrible  thoughts  that  must 
be  distressing  her." 

"One  moment,  Alice,  — one  moment,"  said  he,  taking  her 
hand.  "What  is  this  story  my  mother  tells  me?"  He 
stopped,  unable  to  go  on;  but  she  quickly  broke  in,  "Scan- 
dal travels  quickly,  indeed;  but  I  scarcely  thought  your 
mother  was  one  to  aid  its  journe3\" 

"She  never  believed  it,"  said  he,  doggedl3^ 

"Why  repeat  it,  then?  Why  give  bad  money  currency? 
I  think  we  had  better  join  my  friend.  I  see  she  is 
impatient." 

The  coldness  with  which  she  spoke  chilled  him  like  a 
wintry  blast;  but  he  rallied  soon,  and  with  a  vigorous  energy 


wy^^^^t^^??  <^/z  /A^j  yy////-  . 


((  OF  THE 

"    UNIVERS/TV 

-^i  FORNIX 


MET  AND  PARTED.  453 

said,  "My  mother  no  more  believed  ill  of  you  than  I  did; 
and  when  I  asked  you  what  the  slander  meant,  it  was  to 
know  where  I  could  find  the  man  to  pay  for  it." 

"You  must  deny  yourself  the  pleasure  this  time,  Tony," 
said  she,  laughing.  "It  was  a  woman's  story,  —  a  dis- 
appointed woman,  —  and  so,  not  so  very  blamable  as  she 
might  be;  not  but  that  it  was  true  in  fact." 

"  True,  Alice,  —  true  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir.  The  inference  from  it  was  the  only  falsehood; 
but,  really,  we  have  had  too  much  of  this.  Tell  me  of  your- 
self, —  why  are  you  here  ?    Where  are  you  now  going  ?  " 

''  You  've  heard  of  my  exploits  as  a  messenger,  I  suppose," 
said  Tony,  with  a  bitter  laugh. 

''  I  heard,  as  we  all  heard  with  great  sorrow,  that  you  left 
the  service,"  said  she,  with  a  hesitation  on  each  word. 

"Left  it?  Yes;  I  left  to  avoid  being  kicked  out  of  it. 
I  lost  my  despatches,  and  behaved  like  a  fool.  Then  I 
tried  to  turn  sailor,  but  no  skipper  would  take  me;  and  I 
did  turn  clerk,  and  half  ruined  the  honest  fellow  that 
trusted  me.  And  now  I  am  going  —  in  good  truth,  Alice, 
I  don't  exactly  know  where,  but  it  is  somewhere  in  search 
of  a  pursuit  to  fit  a  fellow  who  begins  to  feel  he  is  fit  for 
nothing." 

"It  is  not  thus  3'our  friends  think  of  you.  Ton}',"  said 
she,  kindly. 

"That's  the  worst  of  it,"  rejoined  he,  bitterly;  "I  have 
all  m}'  life  been  trying  to  justify  an  opinion  that  never 
should  have  been  formed  of  me,  — ay,  and  that  I  well  knew 
I  had  no  right  to. " 

"Well,  Tony,  come  back  with  us.  I  don't  say  with  me^ 
because  I  must  be  triple  discreet  for  some  time  to  come; 
but  come  back  with  papa;  he  '11  be  overjoyed  to  have  you 
with  us." 

"No,  no,"  muttered  Tony,  in  a  faint  whisper;  "I  could 
not,  I  could  not." 

"Is  that  old  grudge  of  long  ago  so  deep  that  time  has  not 
filled  it  up?" 

"I  could  not,  I  could  not,"  muttered  he,  evidently  not 
hearing  the  words  she  had  just  spoken. 

"And  why  not,  Tony?     Just  tell  me  why  not?  " 


454  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Shall  I  tell  you,  Alice?"  said  he;  and  his  lip  shook  and 
his  cheek  grew  pale  as  he  spoke,  —  "shall  I  tell  you?  " 

She  nodded ;  for  she  too  was  moved,  and  did  not  trust 
herself  to  speak. 

"Shall  I  tell  you?"  said  he;  and  he  looked  into  her  eyes 
with  a  meaning  so  full  of  love,  and  yet  of  sorrow,  that  her 
cheek  became  crimson,  and  she  turned  away  in  shame. 

"No,  Tony,"  whispered  she,  faintly,  "better  not  say  — 
what  might  pain  us  both,  perhaps." 

"Enough,  if  you  know,"  said  he,  faintly. 

"There,  see,  my  friend  has  lost  all  patience;  come  up 
to  the  road,  Tony.  She  must  see  that  my  interview  has 
been  with  an  English  gentleman,  and  not  a  brigand  chief. 
Give  me  your  arm,  and  do  not  look  so  sulky." 

"You  women  can  look  any  way  you  will,"  mumbled  he, 
"no  matter  what  you  may  feel;  that  is,  if  you  do  feel." 

"You  are  the  same  old  savage,  Tony,  as  ever,"  said  she, 
laughing.  "I  never  got  my  melon,  after  all,  Miss  Lester; 
the  sight  of  an  old  friend  was,  however,  better.  Let  me 
pr^ent  him  to  you,  — Mr.  Butler." 

"Mr.  Tony  Butler?"  asked  she,  with  a  peculiar  smile; 
and  though  she  spoke  it  low,  he  heard  her,  and  said,  "l^es; 
I  am  Tony  Butler." 

"Sir  Arthur  will  be  charmed  to  know  you  are  here.  It 
was  but  yesterday  he  said  he  'd  not  mind  taking  a  run  through 
Calabria  if  we  only  had  you  with  us." 

"I  have  said  all  that  and  more  to  him,  but  he  doesn't 
mind  it,"  said  Alice. 

"Is  this  fair,  Alice?"  whispered  he. 

"In  fact,"  resumed  she,  "he  has  nowhere  particular  to  go 
to,  provided  it  be  not  the  same  road  that  we  are  taking." 

"Is  this  kind,  Alice?"  whispered  he,  again. 

"And  though  I  have  told  him  what  pleasure  it  would 
give  us  all  if  he  would  turn  back  with  us  —  " 

"Y^ou  '11  drive  me  to  say  it,"  muttered  he,  between  his 
teeth. 

"If  you  dare,  sir,"  said  she,  in  a  low  but  clear  whisper; 
and  now  she  stepped  into  the  carriage,  and  affected  to  busy 
herself  with  her  mufflers.  Tony  assisted  Miss  Lester  to  her 
place,  and  then  walked  round  to  the  side  where  Alice  sat. 


MET  AND   PARTED.  455 

"You  are  not  angry  with  me,  Alice?  "  said  he,  falteringly. 

"I  certainly  am  not  pleased,"  said  she,  coldly.  "There 
was  a  time  I  had  not  to  press  a  wish,  —  I  had  but  to 
utter  it." 

"And  yet,  Alice,"  said  he,  leaning  over,  and  whispering 
so  close  that  she  felt  his  breath  on  her  face,  —  "and  yet  I 
never  loved  you  then  as  I  love  you  now." 

"You  have  determined  that  I  should  not  repeat  my  invi- 
tation," said  she,  leaning  back  in  the  carriage;  "I  must  — 
I  have  no  help  for  it  —  I  must  say  good-bye!  " 

"Good-bye,"  said  he,  pressing  her  hand,  from  which  he 
had  just  drawn  off  the  glove,  to  his  lips.  She  never  made 
any  effort  to  withdraw  it,  bat  leaned  forward  as  though  to 
conceal  the  action  from  her  companion. 

''Good-bye,  dearest  Alice,"  said  he,  once  more. 

"Give  me  my  glove,  Tony.  I  think  it  has  fallen,"  said 
she,  carelessly,  as  she  leaned  back  once  more. 

"There  it  is,"  muttered  he;  "but  I  have  another  here  that 
I  will  never  part  with;"  and  he  drew  forth  the  glove  she 
had  thrown  on  the  strand  for  him  to  pick  up  —  so  long  stgp ! 

"  You  will  see  papa,  Tony  ?  "  said  she,  drawing  down  her 
veil;  "3'ou  can't  fail  to  meet  him  before  night.  Say  you 
saw  us.     Good-bye." 

And  Tony  stood  alone  on  the  mountain,  and  watched  the 
cloud  of  dust  that  rose  behind  the  carriage,  and  listened  to 
the  heavy  tramp  of  the  horses  till  the  sounds  died  off  in  the 
distance. 

"Oh  if  I  could  trust  the  whisper  at  my  heart!  "  cried  he. 
"If  I  could  —  if  I  could  —  I  'd  be  happier  than  I  ever  dared 
to  hope  for." 


CHAPTER  L. 

THE    SOLDIER    OF    MISFORTUNE. 

The  little  flicker  of  hope  —  faint  enough  it  was  —  that 
cheered  up  Tony's  heart,  served  also  to  indispose  him  to 
meet  with  Lady  Lyle ;  for  he  remembered,  fresh  as  though 
it  had  been  the  day  before,  the  sharp  lesson  that  lady  had 
read  him  on  the  "absurd  pretensions  of  certain  young 
gentlemen  with  respect  to  those  immeasurably  above  them 
in  station."  "I  am  not  in  a  humor  to  listen  to  the  second 
part  of  the  homily,  which  certainly  would  not  be  the  less 
pointed,  seeing  that  I  am  a  wayfarer  on  foot,  and  with  my 
knapsack  strapped  behind  me."  It  gave  him  no  sense  of 
shame  that  Alice  should  have  seen  him  thus  poor  and 
humble.  He  never  blushed  for  his  pack  or  his  hobnailed 
shoes.  If  she  could  not  think  of  him  apart  from  the  acci- 
dents of  his  condition,  it  mattered  very  little  what  he  wore 
or  how  he  journeyed.  And  as  he  cheered  himself  with  these 
thoughts  he  gained  a  high  peak,  from  which  he  could  see  the 
pine-clad  promontory  of  Sestri,  some  thousand  feet  down 
below  him.  He  knew  the  spot  from  description,  and  remem- 
bered that  it  was  to  be  one  of  his  resting-places  for  a  night. 
It  was  no  new  thing  for  Tony  to  strike  out  his  own  line  across 
country  —  his  was  a  practised  eye  —  to  mark  the  course  by 
which  a  certain  point  was  to  be  reached,  and  to  know,  by 
something  like  instinct,  where  a  ravine  —  where  a  river  must 
lie  —  where  the  mountain-side  would  descend  too  precipi- 
tously for  human  footsteps  —  where  the  shelving  decline 
would  admit  of  a  path  —  all  these  were  his ;  and  in  their 
exercise  he  had  that  sort  of  pride  a  man  feels  in  what  he 
deems  a  gift. 

This  same  pride  and  his  hope  together  lightened  the  way, 
and  he  went  forward  almost  happy ;  so  that  once  or  twice 


THE   SOLDIER   OF  MISFORTUNE.  457 

he  half  asked  himself  if  fortune  was  not  about  to  turn  on 
him  with  a  kindlier  look  than  she  had  yet  bestowed?  AVhen 
about  a  mile  from  the  high-road,  a  dull  rumbling  sound,  like 
far-away  thunder,  caught  his  ear :  he  looked  up,  and  saw 
the  great  massive  carriage  of  the  wealthy  Sir  Arthur  rolling 
ponderously  along,  with  its  six  horses,  and  followed  by  a 
dense  "  wake"  of  dust  for  half  a  mile  behind.  "  I  am  glad 
that  we  have  not  met,"  muttered  he:  "I  could  have  wished 
to  see  Bella,  and  speak  to  her.  She  was  ever  my  fast  friend  ; 
but  that  haughty  old  woman,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  pride  of 
her  wealth,  would  have  jarred  on  me  so  far  that  I  might 
have  forgotten  myself.  Why  should  my  poverty  provoke 
her  to  slight  me?  My  poverty  is  mine,  just  as  much  as  any 
malady  that  might  befall  me,  and  whose  sufferings  I  must 
bear  as  I  may,  and  cannot  ask  another  to  endure  for  me. 
It  may  try  me  to  stand  up  against,  but  surely  it  is  no  burden 
to  her;  and  why  make  it  seem  as  a  gulf  between  us?"  Ah, 
Master  Tony !  subtler  heads  than  yours  have  failed  to  untie 
this  knot.  It  was  dusk  when  he  reached  Sestri,  and  found 
himself  in  the  little  vine-clad  porch  of  the  "  Angelo  d'  Oro," 
a  modest  little  inn  for  foot-travellers  on  the  verge  of  the  sea. 
He  ordered  his  supper  to  be  served  in  the  open  air,  under  the 
fresh  foliage,  and  with  the  pleasant  night-wind  gently  stir- 
ring the  leaves. 

As  the  landlord  arranged  the  table,  he  informed  Tony  that 
another  traveller  had  come  a  short  time  before,  but  so  igno- 
rant of  the  language  was  he  that  he  was  only  served  by 
means  of  signs ;  and  he  seemed  so  poor,  too,  that  they  had 
scruples  about  giving  him  a  bed,  and  were  disposed  to  let 
him  pass  the  night  under  the  porch. 

Tony  learned  that  the  traveller  had  only  tasted  a  glass  of 
wine  and  a  piece  of  bread,  and  then,  as  if  overcome  by 
fatigue  and  exhaustion,  dropped  off  asleep.  "I  will  see 
him,"  said  he,  rising,  without  partaking  of  the  soup  that  was 
just  placed  before  him;  "the  poor  fellow  may  perhaps  be 
ill."  The  landlord  led  the  way  to  the  end  of  the  house, 
where,  on  a  heap  of  chestnut  leaves,  the  usual  bedding  of 
the  cattle  in  these  regions,  a  large  strongly  built  man,  poorly 
clad  and  travel-stained,  lay  sound  asleep.  Tony  took  the 
lantern  and  held  it  to  his  face.     How  was  it  he  knew  the 


458  TONY  BUTLER. 

features?  He  knew  them,  and  3'et  not  the  man.  He  was 
sure  that  the  great  massive  brow  and  that  large  strong  cheek 
were  not  seen  by  him  for  the  first  time,  and  though  he  was 
sorry  to  disturb  the  poor  fellow's  slumber,  he  could  not  con- 
trol his  impatience  to  resolve  the  doubt;  and,  stooping 
down,  he  shook  him  gently  by  the  shoulder. 

"What  is  it?"  cried  the  man,  starting  up  to  a  sitting 
posture;   "what  is  it  now?" 

"  You  are  a  countryman  of  mine,"  said  Tony,  "  and  I'm 
trying  to  think  if  we  have  not  met  before." 

The  man  rose  to  his  feet,  and,  taking  the  lantern  from 
Tony's  hand,  held  it  up  to  his  face.  "  Don't  you  know  me, 
sir,"  cried  he;   "don't  you  remember  me?" 

"I  do,  and  I  do  not,"  muttered  Tony,  still  puzzled. 

"Don't  you  mind  the  day,  sir,  that  you  was  near  been 
run  over  in  London,  and  a  man  pulled  you  out  just  as  the 
horses  was  on  top  o'  you?  " 

"And  are  you  the  man?  Are  you  the  poor  fellow  whose 
bundle  I  carried  off  ?  "  —  but  he  stopped,  and,  grasping  the 
man's  hand,  shook  it  cordially  and  affectionately.  "By 
what  chance  do  I  find  you  here?" 

The  man  looked  about,  as  if  to  see  that  he  was  not  over- 
heard ;  and  Tony,  marking  the  caution  of  the  gesture,  said, 
"None  can  understand  us  here.  Don't  be  afraid  to  say  what 
you  like;  but  first  of  all,  come  and  share  my  supper  with 
me." 

It  was  not  without  a  modest  reluctance  that  the  poor 
fellow  took  his  seat  at  the  table;  and,  indeed,  for  some 
time  so  overcome  was  he  by  the  honor  accorded  him,  that 
he  scarcely  ate  at  all.  If  Tony  Butler  was  no  finished  con- 
versationalist, able  to  lead  the  tulk  of  a  dinner-table,  yet  in 
the  tact  that  pertains  to  making  intercourse  with  an  inferior 
easy  and  familiar  he  had  not  many  his  equal ;  and  before 
the  meal  was  finished,  he  slapped  him  familiarly  on  the 
shoulder,  and  said,  "Rory  Quin,  here's  your  health,  and  a 
long  life  to  you!  " 

"How  did  you  know  my  name,  sir?"  asked  the  poor 
fellow,  whose  face  glowed  with  delight  at  the  flattery  of 
such  a  recognition. 

"At  first  I  did  not  trust  my  memory,  Rory,  for  I  wrote  it 


THE   SOLDIER  OF  MISFORTUNE.  459 

down  in  a  note- book  I  have;  and  after  a  while  I  learned  to 
think  of  you  so  often,  and  to  wish  I  might  meet  you,  that  I 
had  no  need  of  the  writing.  You  don't  seem  to  remember 
that  I  am  in  your  debt,  my  good  fellow.  I  carried  off  your 
bundle,  and,  what  was  worse,  it  fell  overboard  and  was 
lost." 

"It  couldn't  have  any  but  bad  luck,"  said  Rory,  thought- 
fully; "and  maybe  it  was^  just  the  best  thing  could 
happen  it." 

There  was  a  touch  of  sorrow  in  what  he  said  that  Tony 
easily  saw;  a  hidden  grief  had  been  removed,  and  after  a 
little  inducement  he  led  him  on  to  tell  his  story;  and  which, 
though,  narrated  in  Rory's  own  words,  it  occupied  hours, 
may,  happily  for  my  readers,  be  condensed  into  a  very  few 
sentences. 

Rory  had  been  induced,  partly  by  the  glorious  cause 
itself,  partly  through  the  glittering  promises  of  personal 
advancement,  to  enlist  for  foreign  service.  A  certain 
Major  M'Caskey  —  a  man  that,  as  Rory  said,  would  wile 
the  "birds  off  the  trees  —  came  down  to  the  little  village  he 
lived  in  at  the  foot  of  the  Galtee  Mountains;  and  there  was 
not  one,  young  or  old,  was  not  ready  to  follow  him.  To 
hear  him  talk,  as  Rory  described,  was  better  than  a  play. 
There  wasn't  a  part  of  the  world  he  hadn't  seen,  there 
was  n't  a  great  man  in  it  he  did  n't  know;  and  "what  beat 
all,"  as  Rory  said,  "was  the  way  he  had  the  women  on  his 
side."  Not  that  he  was  a  fine-looking  man,  or  tall,  or 
handsome,  — far  from  it;  he  was  a  little  "crith  of  a  cray- 
ture,"  not  above  five  feet  four  or  five,  and  with  red  whiskers 
and  a  beard,  and  a  pair  of  eyes  that  seemed  on  fire ;  and  he 
had  a  way  of  looking  about  him  as  he  went,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "Where's  the  man  that  wants  to  quarrel  with  me?  for 
I'm  ready  and  willin'." 

"I  won't  say,"  added  Rory,  with  a  touch  of  humility, 
"that  one  like  your  honor  would  have  thought  so  much  of 
him  as  we  did.  I  won't  say  that  all  the  fine  people  he  knew, 
and  all  the  wonderful  things  he  did,  would  have  made  your 
honor  admire  him,  as  I,  and  others  like  me,  did.  Maybe, 
indeed,  you  'd  have  found  out  it  was  lies  from  beginning  to 
end." 


460  TONY  BUTLER. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  muttered  Tony;  *'there  are 
plausible  fellows  of  that  sort  that  take  in  men  of  the  world 
every  day !  "  And  Tony  sat  back  in  his  chair  and  puffed  his 
cigar  in  silence,  doubtless  recalling  one  such  adept  in  his 
own  experience. 

"Faix,  I'm  proud  to  hear  your  honor  say  that!"  cried 
Rory.  "I'm  as  glad  as  a  pound-note  to  know  that  even  a 
gentleman  might  have  been  '  taken  in  '  by  the  Major." 

''I'll  not  go  that  far,  perhaps,"  remarked  Tony,  "as 
regards  your  Major;  but  I  repeat  that  there  are  certain  fel- 
lows of  his  kind  who  actually  have  imposed  on  gentlemen, 

—  yes,  on  gentlemen  who  were  no  fools,  either.  But  how 
was  it  he  tricked  you?" 

Now  were  the  floodgates  of  Rory's  eloquence  thrown 
open,  and  for  above  an  hour  did  he  revel,  as  only  an  Irish- 
man or  an  Italian  can,  in  a  narrative  of  cruel  wrongs  and 
unmerited  hardships;  sufferings  on  laud  and  sufferings  at 
sea;  short  rations,  bad  language,  and  no  pay.  Rory  was 
to  have  been  an  officer,  —  a  captain,  at  least;  and  when  they 
landed  at  Ancona,  he  was  marched  away  hundreds  of  miles, 
with  a  heavy  musket,  and  a  heavier  pack,  as  a  common 
soldier,  and  given  nothing  but  beans  and  oil  for  his  food, 
and  told  he  'd  be  shot  if  he  grumbled.  But  what  he  felt 
most  of  all  was,  that  he  never  knew  whose  service  he  was 
in,  and  what  he  was  going  to  fight  for.  Now  it  was  the 
Holy  Father,  —  Rory  was  ready  to  die  for  him  and  the 
Blessed  Virgin;  now  it  was  the  King  of  Naples  and  Saint 
Somebody,  whose  name  he  couldn't  remember,  and  that 
Rory  felt  no  enthusiasm  for.  At  one  moment  he  was  told 
the  Pope  was  going  to  bless  the  w4iole  battalion,  and 
sprinkle  them  with  his  own  hand;   and  then  it  was  the  Queen 

—  and  purty  she  was,  no  doubt  —  was  to  lead  them  on,  God 
knows  where!  "And  that's  the  way  we  were  living  in 
the  mountains  for  six  weeks,  and  every  time  they  paraded 
us  —  about  once  a  week  —  there  would  be  thirty  or  forty 
less  of  us ;  some  gone  off  to  be  sailors,  some  taking  to  the 
highway  as  robbers,  and  a  few  selling  whatever  they  had 
and  making  for  home.  At  last  the  Major  himself  came 
down  to  inspect  us,  —  he  was  Colonel  then,  and  covered 
with  gold,  and  all  over  stars  and  crosses.     We  were  drawn 


THE   SOLDIER   OF  MISFORTUNE.  461 

up  in  a  square  of  a  little  town  they  call  Loretto,  that  has 
houses  on  three  sides  of  it,  and  a  low  sea-wall  with  a  drop  of 
about  twenty  feet  to  the  sea.  I  '11  not  forget  the  place  to 
my  dying  day. 

"There  was  four  hundred  and  twenty-seven  of  us  out  of 
two  thousand  and  sixty,  —  the  rest  ran  away ;  and  when  the 
Major  heard  the  roll  called,  I  thought  he  'd  go  out  of  his 
mind;  and  he  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of  us,  gnashing 
his  teeth  and  blaspheming  as  never  I  heard  before.  '  Ye 
scoundrels,'  he  said  at  last,  '  you  've  disgraced  me  eternally, 
and  I  '11  go  back  to  the  Holy  Father  and  tell  him  it 's  curses 
and  not  blessings  he  'd  have  to  give  you.' 

"This  was  too  much  to  bear,  and  I  cried  out,  'You'd 
better  not ! ' 

"  '  Who  says  that?  '  cries  he.  '  Where  's  the  cowardly 
rascal  that  has  n't  the  courage  to  step  forward  and  repeat 
these  words  ?  '  and  with  that  I  advanced  two  paces,  and, 
putting  my  gun  to  my  shoulder,  took  a  steady  aim  at  him. 
I  had  him  covered.  If  I  pulled  the  trigger,  he  was  a  dead 
man;  but  I  could  n't  do  it,  —  no,  if  I  got  the  whole  world 
for  it,  I  could  n't ;  and  do  you  know  why  ?  —  here  it  is,  then : 
It  was  the  way  he  stood  up,  bould  and  straight,  with  one 
band  on  his  breast,  and  the  other  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword, 
and  he  cried  out,  '  Fire!  you  scoundrel,  fire!  '  Bad  luck  to 
me  if  I  could ;  but  I  walked  on,  covering  him  all  the  while, 
till  I  got  within  ten  paces  of  the  wall,  and  then  I  threw 
down  my  musket,  and  with  a  run  I  cleared  it,  and  jumped 
into  the  sea.  He  fired  both  his  pistols  at  me,  and  one  ball 
grazed  my  head;  but  I  dived  and  swam  and  dived  till  he 
lost  sight  of  me;  and  it  was  half  an  hour  before  they  got 
out  a  boat,  and  before  that  I  was  snug  hiding  between  the 
rocks,  and  so  close  to  him  that  I  could  hear  him  swearing 
away  like  mad.  When  it  was  dark  I  crept  out,  and  made 
my  way  along  the  shore  to  Pesaro,  and  all  the  way  here. 
Indeed,  I  had  only  to  say  anywhere  I  was  a  deserter,  and 
every  one  was  kind  to  me.  And  do  you  know,  sir,  now 
that  it's  all  over,  I'm  glad  I  didn't  shoot  him  in  cold 
blood?" 

"Of  course  you  are,"  said  Tony,  half  sternly. 

"But  if  I  am,"  rejoined  the  other,  — "if  I  am  glad  of  it, 


462  TONY  BUTLER. 

it 's  a'most  breaking  my  heart  to  think  I  'm  going  back  to 
Ireland  without  a  chance  of  facing  him  in  a  fair  tight." 

''You  could  do  that,  too,  if  you  were  so  very  anxious  for 
it,"  said  Tony,  gravely. 

''Do  you  tell  me  so?     And  how,  sir?  " 

"Easy  enough,  Rory.  I'm  on  my  way  now  to  join  a  set 
of  brave  fellows  that  are  going  to  fight  the  very  soldiers  your 
Major  will  be  serving  with.  The  cause  that  he  fights  for,  I 
need  not  tell  you,  can't  be  a  very  good  one." 

"Indeed,  it  oughtn't,"  said  Ror}^,  cautiousl}^ 

"Come  along  with  me,  then;  if  it's  only  fighting  j^ou  ask 
for,  there  's  a  fellow  to  lead  us  on  that  never  balked  any 
one's  fancy  that  way.  In  four  days  from  this  we  can  be  in 
the  thick  of  it.  I  don't  want  to  persuade  you  in  a  hurr}^, 
Rory.  Take  a  day  —  take  two  —  three  days,  if  you  like,  to 
think  of  it." 

"I  won't  take  three  minutes.  I'll  follow  your  honor  to 
the  world's  end!  and  if  it  gives  me  a  chance  to  come  up 
with  the  Major,  I  '11  bless  the  hour  I  met  you." 

Tony  now  told  him  —  somewhat  more  ambiguously,  I  'm 
afraid,  than  consisted  with  perfect  candor  —  of  the  cause 
they  were  going  to  fight  for.  He  made  the  most  of  those 
magical  words  so  powerful  to  the  Celtic  heart,  —  oppres- 
sion, cruelty,  injustice;  he  imparted  a  touch  of  repeal  to 
the  struggle  before  them;  and  when  once  pressed  hard  by 
Rory  with  the  home  question,  "Which  side  is  the  Holy 
Father?"  he  roughly  answered,  "I  don't  think  he  has  much 
to  say  to  it  one  way  or  other." 

"Faix,  I'm  ashamed  of  myself,"  said  Rorj^  flushing  up; 
"and  I  ought  to  know  that  what  's  good  enough  for  your 
honor  to  fight  for  is  too  good  for  me." 

They  drained  the  last  glasses  of  their  flask  in  pledge  of 
their  compact,  and,  resolving  to  keep  their  resting-time  for 
the  sultry  heat  of  the  day,  started  by  the  clear  starlight  for 
Genoa. 


CHAPTER   LI. 


A    PIECE    OF    GOOD    TIDINGS. 


It  was  about  a  week  after  this  event  when  Sara  M'Gruder 
received  a  few  lines  from  Tony  Butler,  saying  that  he  was 
to  sail  that  morning  with  a  detachment  for  Garibaldi.  They 
were  bound  for  Marsala,  and  only  hoped  that  they  might  not 
be  caught  by  the  Neapolitan  cruisers  which  were  said  to 
swarm  along  the  coast.  "I  suppose,"  he  writes,  "there's 
plenty  of  '  fight '  amongst  us ;  but  we  are  more  picturesque 
than  decent-looking;  and  an  honest  countryman  of  mine, 
who  has  attached  himself  to  my  fortunes,  tells  me  in  confi- 
dence that '  they  're  all  heathens,  every  man  of  them.'  They 
are  certainly  a  wild,  dare-devil  set,  whom  it  will  be  diflQcult 
to  reduce  to  any  discipline,  and,  I  should  fear,  impossible 
to  restrain  from  outrage  if  occasion  offers.  We  are  so 
crowded  that  we  have  only  standing-room  on  deck,  and 
those  below  are  from  time  to  time  relieved  in  squads,  to 
come  up  and  breathe  a  little  fresh  air.  The  suffering  from 
heat  and  thirst  was  bad  yesterday,  but  will,  perhaps,  be 
less  at  sea,  with  a  fresh  breeze  to  cool  us.  At  all  events, 
no  one  complains.  We  are  the  joUiest  blackguards  in  the 
world,  and  going  to  be  killed  in  a  better  humor  with  life 
than  half  the  fine  gentlemen  feel  as  they  wake  in  the  morn- 
ing to  a  day  of  pleasure. 

"I  shall  be  glad  when  we  put  foot  on  land  again;  for  I 
own  I  'd  rather  fight  the  Neapolitans  than  live  on  in  such 
close  companionship  with  my  gallant  comrades.  If  not 
'  bowled  '  over,  I  '11  write  to  you  within  a  week  or  two. 
Don't  forget  me.  — Yours  ever, 

"ToxY  Butler." 

M'Gruder  was  carefully  ploddino;  his  way  through  this 
not  very  legible  document,   exploring  it  with  a  zeal    that 


464  TONY  BUTLER. 

vouched  for  his  regard  for  the  writer,  when  he  was  informed 
that  an  English  gentleman  was  in  the  otBce  inquiring  for 
Mr.  Butler. 

The  stranger  soon  presented  himself  as  a  Mr.  Culter,  of 
the  house  of  Box  &  Culter,  solicitors,  London,  and  related 
that  he  had  been  in  search  of  Mr.  Anthon}'  Butler  from  one 
end  of  Europe  to  the  other.  "I  was  first  of  all,  sir,"  said 
he,  "in  the  wilds  of  Calabria,  and  thence  I  was  sent  off  to 
the  equally  barbarous  north  of  Ireland,  where  I  learned  that 
I  must  retrace  my  steps  over  the  Alps  to  3'our  house ;  and 
now  I  am  told  that  Mr.  Butler  has  left  this  a  week  ago." 

"Your  business  must  have  been  important  to  require  such 
activity,"  said  M'Gruder,  half  inquiringly. 

"  Ver}^  important,  indeed,  for  Mr.  Butler,  if  I  could  only 
meet  with  him.  Can  you  give  any  hint,  sir,  how  that  is  to 
be  accomplished?" 

"I  scarce!}^  think  you  '11  follow  him  when  I  tell  j^ou  where 
he  has  gone,"  said  M'Gruder,  dryly.  "He  has  gone  to 
join  Garibaldi." 

"To  join  Garibaldi!"  exclaimed  the  other.  "A  man 
with  a  lauded  estate  and  thirty-six  thousand  in  the  Three 
per  Cents  gone  off  to  Garibaldi! " 

"It  is  clear  we  are  not  talking  of  the  same  person.  My 
poor  friend  had  none  ofv  that  wealth  you  speak  of." 

"Probably  not,  sir,  when  last  you  saw  him;  but  his 
uncle.  Sir  Omerod  Butler,  has  died,  leaving  him  all  he  had 
in  the  world." 

"I  never  knew  he  had  an  uncle.  I  never  heard  him  speak 
of  a  rich  relation." 

"There  was  some  family  quarrel,  —  some  estrangement,  I 
don't  know  what;  but  when  Sir  Omerod  sent  for  me  to  add 
a  codicil  to  his  will,  he  expressed  a  great  wish  to  see  his 
nephew  before  he  died,  and  sent  me  off  to  Ireland  to  fetch 
him  to  him ;  but  a  relapse  of  his  malady  occurred  the  day 
after  I  left  him,  and  he  died  within  a  week." 

The  man  of  law  entered  into  a  minute  description  of  the 
property  to  which  Tony  was  to  succeed.  There  was  a  small 
family  estate  in  Ireland,  and  a  large  one  in  England;  there 
was  a  considerable  funded  fortune,  and  some  scattered 
moneys  in  foreign  securities ;  the  whole  only  charged  with 
eight  hundred  a-year  on  the  life  of  a  lady  no  longer  young, 


A  PIECE   OF  GOOD  TIDINGS.  465 

whom  scandal  called  Dot  the  widow  of  Sir  Omerod  Butler. 
M'Gruder  paid  little  attention  to  these  details;  his  whole 
thought  was  how  to  apprise  Tony  of  his  good-luck, —  how 
call  him  back  to  a  world  where  he  had  what  would  make  life 
most  enjoyable.  "I  take  it,  sir,"  asked  he,  at  last,  "that 
you  don't  fancy  a  tour  in  Sicily?  " 

"Nothing  is  less  in  my  thoughts,  sir.  We  shall  be  most 
proud  to  act  as  Mr.  Butler's  agents,  but  I  'm  not  prepared 
to  expose  my  life  for  the  agency." 

"Then,  I  think  I  must  go  myself.  It's  clear  the  poor 
fellow  ought  to  know  of  his  good  fortune." 

"  I  suspect  that  the  Countess  Brancaleone,  the  annuitant 
I  mentioned,  will  not  send  to  tell  him,"  said  the  lawyer, 
smiling;  "for  if  Mr.  Butler  should  get  knocked  over  in  this 
ugly  business,  she  inherits  everything,  even  to  the  family 
plate  with  the  Butler  arms." 

"She  sha'n't,  if  I  can  help  it,"  said  M'Gruder,  firmly. 
"I'll  set  out  to-night." 

Mr.  Culter  passed  a  warm  eulogium  on  this  heroic  devo- 
tion, enlarged  on  the  beauty  of  friendship  in  general,  and 
concluded  by  saying  he  would  step  over  to  his  hotel,  where 
he  had  ordered  dinner ;  after  which  he  would  certainly  drink 
Mr.  M'Gruder's  health. 

"I  shall  want  some  details  from  you,"  said  M'Gruder, 
— "something  written  and  formal, — to  assure  my  friend 
that  my  tidings  are  trustworthy.  I  know  it  will  be  no 
easy  task  to  persuade  him  that  he  is  a  man  of  fortune." 

"You  shall  have  all  you  require,  sir,  —  a  copy  of  the  will, 
a  formal  letter  from  our  house,  reciting  details  of  the  prop- 
erty, and,  what  will  perhaps  impart  the  speediest  convic- 
tion of  all,  a  letter  of  credit,  in  Mr.  Butler's  favor,  for  five 
hundred  pounds  for  immediate  use.  These  are  the  sort  of 
proofs  that  no  scepticism  is  strong  enough  to  resist.  The 
only  thing  that  never  jests,  whose  seriousness  is  above  all 
levity,  is  money;"  and  so  M'Gruder  at  once  acknowledged 
that  when  he  could  go  fortified  with  such  testimonies,  he 
defied  all  doubt. 

His  preparations  for  departure  were  soon  made.  A  short 
letter  to  his  brother  explained  the  cause  of  his  sudden 
leaving;  a  longer  one  to  Dolly  told  how,  in  his  love  for 

30 


466  TONY  BUTLER. 

her,  be  could  not  clo  enough  for  her  friend ;  and  that,  though 
he  liked  Tony  well  for  his  own  sake,  he  liked  him  far  more 
as  the  "adopted  brother  and  old  playfellow  of  his  dearest 
Dolly."  Poor  fellow!  he  wrote  this  from  a  full  heart,  and 
a  very  honest  one  too.  Whether  it  imparted  all  the 
pleasure  he  hoped  it  might  to  her  who  read  it,  is  none  of 
our  province  to  tell.  It  is  only  ours  to  record  that  he  started 
that  night  for  Genoa,  obtained  from  a  friend  —  a  subor- 
dinate in  the  Government  employment  —  a  letter  to  Gari- 
baldi himself,  and  sailed  with  an  agent  of  the  General's  in 
charge  of  a  supply  of  small-arms  and  ammunition. 

They  were  within  thirty  miles  of  Sicily  when  they  were 
boarded  by  the  Neapolitan  corvette  the  "Veloce,"  and  car- 
ried off  prisoners  to  Palermo,  —  the  one  solitary  capture  the 
royal  navy  made  in  the  whole  of  that  eventful  struggle. 

The  proofs  that  they  were  Garibaldians  were  too  strong 
and  many  for  denial;  and  for  a  day  and  a  half  their  fate 
was  far  from  hopeful.  Indeed,  had  the  tidings  of  the  first 
encounters  between  the  King's  forces  and  the  buccaneers 
been  less  disastrous  than  they  were,  the  prisoners  would  have 
been  shot;  but  already  a  half  doubt  had  arisen  as  to  the 
fidelity  of  the  royal  troops.  This  and  that  general,  it  was 
rumored,  had  resigned;  and  of  those  who  remained,  it  was 
said,  more  than  one  had  counselled  "concessions."  Omi- 
nous word  at  such  a  moment,  but  the  presage  of  something 
darker  and  more  ominous  still. 

M'Gruder  bore  up  with  a  stout  heart,  and  nothing 
grieved  him  in  all  his  calamity  more  than  the  thought  that 
all  tliis  time  Tony  might  be  exposing  his  life  as  worthless 
and  hopeless,  while,  if  he  only  knew  it,  he  had  already 
succeeded  to  what  men  are  content  to  pass  their  whole 
existence  to  grasp  and  gain. 

Nor  was  he  inactive  in  his  imprisonment.  He  wrote 
letters  to  Garibaldi,  enclosing  others  to  Ton}' ;  he  wrote  to 
all  the  consuls  he  could  think  of;  to  the  Minister  at  Naples, 
or  to  his  representative;  and  he  proclaimed  his  right  as  a 
"civis  Romanus,"  and  threatened  a  Palmerstonian  vengeance 
on  all  and  every  that  had  a  hand  in  curtailing  his  freedom. 

In  this  very  natural  and  British  pursuit  we  must  now 
leave  him,  and  betake  ourselves  to  other  cares  and  other 
characters. 


CHAPTER   LII. 


ON    THE    CHIAJA    AT    NIGHT. 


The  night  had  just  closed  in  after  a  hot  sultry  day  of 
autumn  in  Naples,  as  Maitland  and  Caffarelli  sat  on  the 
sea-wall  of  the  Chiaja,  smoking  their  cigars  in  silence, 
apparently  deep  in  thought,  or  sometimes  startled  by  the 
distant  shouts  and  cries  of  the  populace  who  crammed  the 
Toledo  or  the  Quarter  of  St.  Lucia ;  for  all  Naples  was  now 
in  the  streets,  and  wild  songs  and  yells  resounded  on  every 
side. 

In  the  bay  the  fleet  lay  at  anchor;  but  the  rapid  flash  of 
lanterns,  as  they  rose  and  fell  in  the  riggings,  showed  that 
the  signalman  was  at  work,  and  that  messages  were  being 
transmitted  and  replied  to  throughout  the  squadron.  A  like 
activity  seemed  to  prevail  in  the  forts  above  the  city,  and 
the  roll  of  the  drum  and  the  bugle-call  occasionally  could  be 
heard  overtopping  all  other  sounds. 

"What  would  a  newly  come  traveller  say  to  all  this?" 
said  Caffarelli,  at  last.  "Would  he  think  it  was  a  city 
about  to  be  attacked  by  an  enemy,  or  would  he  deem  it  a 
town  in  open  revolt,  or  one  given  up  to  pillage  after  the 
assault?  I  have  seen  to-night  what  might  confirm  any  of 
these  impressions." 

"And  all  three  are  present,"  said  Maitland,  moodily. 
*'Your  traveller  could  scarcely  be  more  puzzled  than  we 
are." 

The  other  sighed  wearily,  and  Maitland  went  on.  ""^What 
do  you  trust,  or  whom?  Is  it  those  noisy  legions  up  there, 
who  only  muster  to  disband;  or  that  gallant  fleet  that  has 
come  to  anchor,  only  the  more  easily  to  surrender  and  change 
its  flag?" 


468  TONY  BUTLER. 

"There  may  be  some  traitors,  but  the  great  majority, 
I  '11  swear,  will  stand  by  the  King." 

"No ;  not  one  in  fifty,  —  not  one  in  a  hundred.  You  don't 
seem  to  apprehend  that  loyalty  is  not  a  sudden  instinct.  It 
is  a  thing  a  man  inherits.  Take  my  word  for  it,  Carlo, 
these  men  will  not  fight  to  keep  a  certain  set  of  priests 
around  a  bigoted  old  Queen,  or  support  a  King  whose 
highest  ambition  is  to  be  a  Jesuit." 

"And  if  you  thought  so  meanly  of  the  cause,  why  have 
you  adopted  it  ?  " 

"Because,  ill  as  I  think  of  the  Court,  I  hate  the  rabble 
more.  Remember,  Carlo,"  —  and  now  he  spoke  in  a  rapid 
and  marked  tone,  — "remember  that,  when  I  joined  you,  I 
deemed  myself  a  rich  man,  and  I  had  my  ambitions,  like 
the  rest  of  you.  Had  I  known  what  I  now  know,  —  had  I 
foreseen  that  the  day  was  so  near  wherein  I  was  to  find 
myself  a  beggar  —  " 

"No,  no,  Maitland;  don't  say  this." 

"And  why  not  say  it?  It  is  true.  You  know  as  well  as 
I  do,  that  amongst  that  yelling  rabble  there  is  none  poorer 
than  myself;  and  for  this  reason,  I  repeat,  I  might  have 
chosen  my  associates  more  wisely.  You  yourself  saw  the 
treatment  I  met  with  this  morning." 

"Ay,  but  bear  in  mind,  Maitland,  what  was  the  provoca- 
tion you  gave.  It  is  no  small  thing  to  tell  a  king,  sur- 
rounded by  his  ministers  and  generals,  that  he  has  not  one 
loyal  and  true  man  in  his  train;  that,  what  between  treach- 
ery and  cowardice,  he  will  find  himself  alone,  at  the  head 
of  a  few  foreign  regiments,  who  will  onl}^  fight  to  cut  their 
way  through  towards  home.",-, 

"I  scarcely  went  so  far  as  this,"    said  Maitland,  smiling. 

"Did  you  not,  per  Bacco !  I  was  there  and  heard  you. 
You  accused  Laguila  to  his  face  of  being  bought,  and  named 
the  sum ;  and  you  told  Cadorno  that  you  had  a  copy  of  his 
letter  promising  to  surrender  the  flag-ship  to  Garibaldi." 

"And  they  listened  to  me  with  an  admirable  patience." 

"I  don't  know  that;  I  am  certain  Cadorno  will  send  you 
a  message  before  the  week  is  over." 

"And  why  not  before  the  day  w^as  over?  Are  these  accu- 
sations a  man  sleeps  upon?" 


ON  THE   CHIAJA  AT  NIGHT.  469 

"The  King  commanded  them  both  to  reply  to  your  charges 
formally  and  distinctly,  but  not  with  the  sword;  and  he 
was  right  so  far." 

"At  all  events,  was  it  kingly  to  tell  me  of  the  favors 
that  had  been  bestowed  upon  me,  and  to  remind  me  that  I 
was  an  alien,  and  unknown?" 

"The  King  was  angry." 

"He  was  angrier  when  I  handed  him  back  his  patent, 
and  told  him  that  I  did  not  care  to  be  the  last-made  noble 
of  a  dynasty." 

"It  was  outrageous.  I  was  shocked  to  hear  you;  and  for 
one  so  young,  I  was  struck  with  the  dignity  with  which  he 
heard  you." 

"I  don't  think  he  understood  me;  he  was  impassive  be- 
cause he  did  not  know  he  was  wounded.  But  why  do  I 
/talk  of  these  things?  They  have  no  longer  the  faintest  in- 
terest for  me.  Except  yourself,  there  is  not  a  man  in  the 
cause  I  care  for." 

"This  is  a  mere  passing  depression,  my  dear  Maitland. 
All  things  seem  sad-colored  to  you  now.  Wait  till  to- 
morrow, or  wait  till  there  be  a  moment  of  danger,  and  you 
will  be  yourself  again." 

"As  for  that,"  said  Maitland,  bitterly,  "I  am  terribly 
myself  just  now.  The  last  eight  or  ten  years  of  my  life 
were  the  dream ;  now  is  the  awakenment.  But  cheer  up,  my 
old  friend.  I  will  stand  by  yon^  though  I  care  very  little 
for  the  cause  you  fight  for.  I  will  still  sei^e  on  the  Staff, 
and  play  out  my  part  to  the  fall  of  the  curtain." 

"What  a  stranse  scene  that  council  was  this  mornins;!" 
said  Caffarelli,  half  wishing  to  draw  him  from  the  personal 
theme. 

"What  a  strange  thing  to  call  a  council,  where  not  merely 
men  walked  in  and  out  unbidden,  but  where  a  chance  trav- 
eller could  sit  down  amongst  the  King's  advisers,  and  give 
his  opinion  like  a  servant  of  the  crown!  Do  you  even  know 
his  name  ?  " 

"I'm  not  sure  that  I  do;  but  it  sounded  like  Tcherni- 
cheff.  He  distinguished  himself  against  the  Turks  on  the 
Danube." 

"And  because  he  routed  some  ill-disciplined  hordes  with 


470  TONY  BUTLER. 

others  a  mere  shade  more  civilized,  he  comes  here  to  impose 
his  opinion  on  our  councils,  and  tell  us  how  we  are  to 
defend  ourselves !  " 

"1  did  not  hear  him  utter  a  word." 

"No,  but  he  handed  in  a  paper  drawn  up  by  himself,  in 
which  he  recommends  the  King  to  withdraw  all  the  forces 
in  front  of  Capua,  and  meet  these  marauders,  where  they 
will  less  like  to  fight,  in  the  open.  The  advice  was  good, 
even  though  it  came  from  a  barbarian.  In  street-fighting 
your  buccaneer  is  as  good  as,  if  not  better  than,  a  regular. 
All  the  circumstances  of  the  ground  favor  him.  Take  him, 
however,  where  he  must  move  and  manoeuvre, —  where  he  w  ill 
have  to  form  and  re-form,  to  dress  his  line  under  fire,  and 
occasionally  change  his  flank, — then  all  the  odds  will  be 
against  him.  So  far  the  Scythian  spoke  well.  His  only 
miscalculation  was  to  suppose  that  we  will  fight  anywhere." 

"I  declare,  Maitlaud,  I  shall  lose  temper  with  you.  You 
can't  surely  know  what  insulting  things  you  say." 

"I  wish  they  could  provoke  any  other  than  yourself,  mio 
caro.  But  come  away  from  this.  Let  us  walk  back  again. 
I  want  to  have  one  more  look  at  those  windows  before  I  go." 

"And  are  you  really  in  love?"  asked  the  other,  with 
more  of  astonishment  in  his  voice  than  curiosity. 

"I  wish  I  knew  how  to  make  her  believe  it,  that's  all," 
said  he,  sadl}^;  and,  drawing  his  arm  within  his  friend's, 
moved  on  with  bent-down  head  and  in  silence. 

"I  think  your  friends  are  about  the  onl}^  travellers  in 
Naples  at  this  moment,  and,  indeed,  none  but  English  would 
come  here  at  such  a  season.  The  do2;-da3's  and  the  revo- 
lution together  ought  to  be  too  much  even  for  tourist 
curiosit3^" 

Caffarelli  went  on  to  describe  the  arrival  of  the  three 
heavy-laden  carriages  with  their  ponderous  baggage  and 
their  crowd  of  servants,  and  the  astonishment  of  the  land- 
lord at  such  an  apparition;  but  Maitland  paid  him  no 
attention,  — perhaps  did  not  even  hear  him. 

Twice  or  thrice  Caffarelli  said  something  to  arouse  notice 
Or  attract  curiosity,  even  to  pique  irritability,  as  when  he 
said:  "I  suppose  I  must  have  seen  your  beauty,  for  I  saw 
two,  —  and  both  good-looking,  —  but  neither  such  as  would 


ON  THE   CHIAJA   AT  NIGHT.  471 

drive  a  man  distracted  out  of  pure  admiration.  Are  you 
minding  me?     Are  you  listening  to  me?  " 

"iSo,  I  iiave  not  heard  one  word  you  were  saying." 

"Civil,  certainly;  but,  seriously,  Maitland,  is  there  not 
something  more  pressing  to  do  at  this  moment  than  to  loiter 
along  the  Chiaja  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  closed  curtains 
within  which  some  blond  angel  may  be  taking  her  tea?  " 

"Go  home,  and  I  will  join  you  later  on.  I  have  given 
orders  about  the  horses.  My  man  will  have  all  in  readi- 
ness by  daybreak.  You  seem  to  me  most  terribly  eager  to 
have  your  head  smashed.  The  King  ought  to  reward  your 
valor.     It  will  be  the  only  '  Cross  '  he  will  have  to  bestow." 

Caffarelli  turned  impatiently  from  him,  and  walked  away. 

Maitland  looked  after  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  con- 
tinued his  way.  He  sauntered  on,  rather  like  one  seeking 
to  kill  time  than  to  reach  a  goal,  and  once  or  twice  he 
stopped,  and  seemed  to  reflect  whether  he  would  go  on. 
At  last  he  reached  a  spot  where  a  broad  path  of  light 
streamed  across  the  street,  and  extended  till  it  was  lost  in 
the  thick  foliage  of  the  garden  on  the  sea-side,  and,  looking 
suddenly  up,  he  saw  he  was  in  front  of  the  great  hotel  of 
Naples,  "L'  Universo."  The  drawing-room  windows  were 
open  on  a  long  balcony,  and  Maitland  could  see  in  the 
well-lighted  room  certain  figures  which  he  persuaded  him- 
self he  could  recognize  even  through  the  muslin  curtains, 
which  slightly  moved  and  waved  in  the  faint  night-air.  As 
he  still  strained  his  eyes  to  mark  the  scene,  two  figures 
approached  the  window,  and  passed  out  upon  the  balcony. 
There  could  be  no  mistake,  —  they  were  Alice  and  her 
sister;  and  so  perfect  was  the  stillness  of  the  air,  and  so 
thin  withal,  that  he  could  hear  the  sound  of  their  voices, 
though  not  trace  their  words. 

"Is  it  not  delicious  here,  Alice?"  said  Bella.  "These 
are  the  glorious  nights  of  Italy  Maitland  used  to  tell  us 
of,  —  so  calm,  so  balmy,  and  so  starry." 

"What  was  that  Skeffy  was  saying  to  you  about  I\Iaitland 
as  you  came  upstairs?"  asked  Alice,  sharply. 

"Oh,  it  was  a  rumor  he  mentioned  that  Maitland  had 
quarrelled  with  the  Court  party.  He  had  advised  some- 
thing, or  rejected  something ;  in  fact,  I  paid  little  attention, 


472  TONY  BUTLER. 

for  I  know  nothing  of  these  Italian  plots  and  schemes,  and 
I  like  Maitland  much  better  when  he  does  not  speak  of 
them." 

"Is  he  here  now,  do  you  know?" 

"Yes;  Skeff  said  he  saw  him  this  morning." 

"I  hope  and  pray  he  may  not  hear  that  we  have  arrived. 
I  trust  that  we  may  not  see  him/' 

"And  why  so,  Alice  dearest?" 

"Can  you  ask  me? '' 

"I  mean,  why  not  receive  him  on  the  terms  of  an  easy 
intimacy?  A  person  of  his  tact  is  always  quick  enough  to 
appreciate  the  exact  amount  of  favor  he  is  held  in." 

''It  is  of  myself  I  am  thinking,  — not  of  him,"  said  she, 
with  something  of  resentment  in  her  tone. 

"If  you  speak  this  way,  Alice,  I  shall  believe  that  you 
care  for  him." 

"The  greater  mistake  yours,  my  dear  Bella." 

"Well  —  that  you  did  once  care  for  him,  and  regret  the 
fact,  or  regret  the  change,  — which  is  it?  " 

"Neither,  on  my  honor!  He  interested  me, — I  own  to 
that;  but  now  that  I  know  his  myster}^,  and  what  a  vulgar 
mystery  it  is,  I  am  half  ashamed  that  I  even  felt  an  interest 
in  him." 

"Gossip  would  sa}^  you  did  more,  Alice,  — that  you  gave 
him  encouragement." 

"What  an  odious  word  you  have  impressed  into  your 
service !  but  I  deny  it ;  nor  was  he  one  to  want  it.  Your 
adventurer  never  does." 

"Adventurer!" 

"I  mean  it  in  its  least  offensive  sense;  but,  really,  I 
see  no  reason  why  this  man's  name  is  to  persecute  me.  I 
left  Ireland  half  to  avoid  it.  I  certainly  need  not  encounter 
it  here." 

"And  if  you  meet  him?" 

"J.  shall  not  meet  him.  I  don't  intend  to  go  out  so  long 
as  we  are  here,  and  I  trust  I  can  refuse  to  receive  him  when 
at  home." 

"I  had  almost  said,  Poor  fellow!  " 

"Say  it,  by  all  means;  compassionate  —  console  him, 
too,  if  Skeff  has  no  objection." 


ON   THE   CHIAJA  AT  NIGHT  473 

*'0h,  Alice!" 

*'Your  own  fault,  Bella,  if  I  say  provoking  things.  No, 
mamma,"  added  she,  to  some  remark  from  within;  "our 
secrets,  as  you  call  them,  cannot  be  overheard;  for,  first  of 
all,  we  are  talking  English ;  and  secondly,  there  is  no  per- 
son whatever  in  the  street." 

Lady  Lyle  now  made  her  appearance  on  the  balcony,  and 
soon  afterwards  they  all  re-entered  the  room.  Maitland  sat 
hours  long  on  the  stone  bench,  watching  with  intense  eager- 
ness as  a  shadow  would  pass  or  repass  behind  the  curtains, 
and  there  he  remained  till  all  the  lights  were  out  in  the 
hotel  and  the  whole  house  sunk  in  silence. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

UNPLEASANT    RECKONINGS. 

There  were  few  busier  diplomatists  in  Europe  during  these 
eventful  days  of  Naples  than  SkefRngton  Darner ;  and  if 
England  had  not  her  share  of  influence,  it  was  no  fault  of 
his.  He  sent  off  special  messengers  ever}^  day.  He  wrote 
to  F.  O.  in  a  cipher,  of  which  it  was  said  no  one  had  the 
key ;  and  he  telegraphed  in  mystical  language  to  the  Ad- 
miral at  Malta,  which  went  far  to  persuade  the  gallant  sea- 
man that  his  correspondent  was  a  maniac.  He  besieged  the 
Court  and  the  ministerial  offices,  and  went  home  to  receive 
deputations  from  the  wildest  leaders  of  the  extreme  democ- 
racy. He  was  determined,  as  he  said,  to  "know  the  truth," 
and  he  surrounded  himself  for  that  purpose  with  a  mass  of 
inextricable  perfidy  and  falsehood  ;  and  yet,  with  all  these 
occupations,  he  passed  his  entire  mornings  with  the  Lyles, 
and  dined  with  them  every  day. 

It  was  a  great  pleasure,  as  Sir  Arthur  said,  to  be  "  behind 
the  scenes ;  "  and  really  the  phrase  did  not  ill  represent  their 
position,  for  the}"  knew  as  much  of  what  was  going  on  upon 
the  stage  as  people  usually"  do  who  liave  only  an  occasional 
glimpse,  and  that  from  a  wrong  point  of  view.  Sir  Arthur, 
however,  believed  Skeffy  to  be  the  rising  diplomatist,  the 
embryo  Talleyrand  of  Great  Britain ;  and  it  was  strange  to 
see  an  old,  crafty,  case-hardened  man  of  the  world  listening 
with  implicit  trustfulness  to  the  hare-brained  speculations  of 
a  young  fellow,  whose  solitary  pretensions  were,  that  he  sent 
off  his  daily  balderdash  marked  "On  Her  Majesty's  Ser- 
vice,'' and  sealed  with  the  roj^al  arms. 

Lady  Lyle  only  half  believed  in  him  ;  and  as  for  Alice, 
she  laughed  at,  but  liked  him  ;  while  Bella  gave  him  all  her 


UNPLEASANT   RECKONINGS.  475 

confidence,  and  admired  him  greatly.  And  a  very  nice  thing 
it  is  of  young  ladies,  and  never  to  be  too  much  commended, 
how  they  will  hang  on  the  words,  and  store  up  the  sayings, 
and  repeat  the  opinions  of  the  man  who  prefers  them.  It  is 
not  exactly  Love,  no  more  than  gooseberry  wine  is  cham- 
pagne;  but  it  effervesces  and  exhilarates,  and  I'm  not  sure 
if  it  does  not  agree  very  well  with  weak  constitutions. 

Now  Skeffy  told  Bella  every  morning  in  the  most  myste- 
rious manner  how  he  had  checkmated  Bresson,  the  French 
Minister,  and  outwitted  Caraffa  and  the  Cardinal  Riario. 
They  never  could  niake  out  whence  he  had  his  information. 
The  Queen  had  spent  a  fortune  in  paying  spies  to  watch  him, 
but  he  out-manoeuvred  them  all.  Nobody  knew  —  nobody 
ever  could  know  —  the  resources  of  his  craft;  and,  indeed, 
except  Louis  Napoleon,  there  was  not  a  man  in  Europe  had 
fathomed  the  depth  of  his  astuteness.  "  I  have  to  pretend," 
would  he  say,  "to  be  a  light,  flippant,  volatile  creature, 
given  up  to  pleasure,  fond  of  play,  of  the  ballet,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  I  let  them  hear  every  day  of  the  sums  I  have 
lost  at  lansquenet,  and  the  enormous  extravagance  of  my 
daily  life,  but  they  don't  know  what  goes  on  here,"  and  he 
would  tap  his  forehead  ;  "  they  never  suspect  what  plots  and 
plans  and  machinations  are  at  w^ork  within  that  brain  they 
imagine  to  be  abandoned  to  enjoyment.  It  will  come  out 
one  of  these  days,  dearest  Bella;  they'll  know  who  '  did  it' 
yet."  And  this  was  a  very  favorite  phrase  with  him,  and 
Bella  caught  it  up,  and  talked  of  the  people  who  had  not 
"done  it,"  and  never  could  "do  it,"  and  hinted  at  one 
whom  an  ignorant  world  would  awake  one  morning  to  see 
had   "done  it,"  and  "done  it"  to  perfection. 

To  hear  him  talk,  you  would  say  that  he  rather  liked  the 
mistaken  estimate  the  world  had  formed  of  him  ;  that  it  was 
one  of  those  excellent  jokes  whose  point  lay  in  a  surprise ; 
and  what  a  surprise  would  that  be  one  of  these  days  when  he 
came  forth  in  his  true  character,  the  great  political  genius  of 
Europe  !  Bella  believed  it  all ;  not  that  she  was  deficient  in 
common  sense,  or  wanting  in  discernment;  but  she  liked 
him,  —  there  was  the  secret.  She  had  made  her  investment 
in  a  certain  stock,  and  would  persist  in  regarding  it  as  a 
most   profitable  venture ;    and    thus  would    they  pass   their 


476  TONY  BUTLER. 

rnorniugs,  —  a  strange  way  to  make  love,  perhaps ;  but  that 
passion,  etherealize  it  how  you  may,  trades  on  some  one 
form  or  other  of  selfishness ;  and  all  these  endearments  were 
blended  with  the  thought  of  how  happy  they  should  be  when 
they  were  great  people. 

Skeffy  would  bring  with  him,  besides,  a  whole  bagful  of 
papers,  despatches,  and  ''private  and  confidentials,"  and 
such-like,  and  make  Bella  copy  out  pages  for  him  of  that 
dreary  trash,  which,  like  a  bad  tapestry,  has  served  no  other 
purpose  than  to  employ  the  small  mind  that  devised  it.  And 
he  would  sit  there,  with  his  eyes  closed,  and  dictate  to  her 
endless  "  brief  glances"  at  the  present  aspect  of  the  Italian 
question,  till  the  poor  girl  was  half  worn  out  between  the 
importance  of  her  task  and  its  weariness. 

"  What's  that  you  are  poring  over,  Bella?"  he  asked,  as 
she  read  over  a  somewhat  lengthy  letter. 

"  It  is  the  complaint  of  an  Englishman  at  being  detained 
by  the  authorities,  first  at  Palermo  and  again  here :  he  was 
a  mere  traveller,  he  asserts,  and  not  in  any  way  engaged  in 
political  schemes.  He  saj^s  that  this  is  his  fourth  appeal  to 
you  without  an  answer,  and  he  declares  that  if  this  be  not 
replied  to,  he  will  address  the  Chief  Secretary  at  home." 

"  Tell  the  fellow  that  aDamer  is  inaccessible  to  a  menace ; 
tell  him  that  his  stupid  letter  would  be  promptly  referred 
back  to  me ;  and  say  that,  so  far  as  this  peninsula  is  con- 
cerned, I  am  F.  O.,  and  to  be  propitiated  by  humility,  and 
not  outraged  by  a  threat." 

"  But  if  it  be  really  true  —  if  the  poor  fellow  should  be 
imprisoned  for  nothing,  Skeff?" 

''  If  fo,  I  shall  liberate  him  ;  "  and  as  he  spoke,  he  arose 
and  walked  the  room  with  a  haughty  stride  and  a  head  erect. 
''Write  — 

"  '  Sir,  —I  am  directed  hy  H.  M.'s  Charge  d'Affaires '  — 
or  rather  say,  '  The  undersigned  has  to  acknowledge  the  re- 
ceipt of —  what 's  his  name?" 

"Samuel  M'Gruder." 

"What  a  name!  —  'of  Samuel  M'Gruder's  letter;  and 
although  he  takes  exception  to  the  passages  marked  A  and 
B,  and  requires  explanation  of  the  paragraph  C,  beginning  at 
the  words  "  nor  can  I,"  and  ending  at  "  British  subject " '  — 


UNPLEASANT  RECKONINGS.  477 

You  '11  have  to  copy  out  the  whole  of  this  despatch,  Bella, 
and  then  I  shall  mark  the  passages  —     Where  was  I  ?  *' 

"  '  British  subject.'  " 

"Yes,  I  remember.  'Yet  that,  conceding  nmch  to  the 
feelings  '  —  no,  that  is  too  familiar  —  '  making  allowances 
for  an  irritability  —  '  " 

"  I  don't  think  you  can  say  that,  Skeff.  He  has  now  been 
seven  weeks  in  confinement." 

'"  Lucky  dog  that  he  has  not  been  seven  weeks  worked 
almost  to  a  skeleton,  like  me,  with  the  cares  of  a  whole 
nation  on  my  head,  and  the  eyes  of  Europe  upon  me." 

''  Just  let  me  say  that  you  will  look  into  his  case,  and  do 
your  best  to  get  him  out  of  prison." 

"  With  all  my  heart.  It  is  fearfully  undignified;  but  let 
it  go,  and  I  '11  send  off  a  messenger  to  the  Prefetto  Lanzi  to 
deliver  up  the  prisoner  M'Gruder  to  me  to-morrow  morning, 
and  we  will  interrogate  him  here." 

The  roll  of  a  drum  was  now  heard  in  the  street  without, 
and  from  the  balcony  could  be  seen  an  immense  crowd  of 
people  moving  in  front  of  an  infantry  regiment,  who  marched 
past,  travel-stained  and  disordered,  and  with  an  indescribable 
something  in  their  air  that  indicated,  it  might  be  defeat,  it 
might  be  disaffection. 

"Here's  strange  news,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  as  he  joined 
them.  "  The  landlord  tells  me  Garibaldi  has  landed  in 
Calabria,  near  Reggio,  beaten  the  royal  troops,  and  is  in 
full  march  on  Naples.  The  regiment  that  you  see  there 
were  ordered  off  to  reinforce  the  advanced  guard,  but  cried 
out,  '  Viva  Garibaldi ! '  and  have  been  now  recalled,  and  are 
to  be  sent  into  the  fortress." 

"Look!"  cried  Skeff;  "here  comes  the  Artillery  after 
them,  a  strong  proof  that  they  don't  trust  these  fellows. 
Bella,  I  must  write  off  the  news  at  once." 

"  Let  me  first  finish  about  M'Gruder,"  said  she,  as  she  sat 
down  to  the  table. 

"  I  wish  we  were  all  safe  back  in  England,"  said  Lady 
Lyle,  as  she  came  up. 

"  I  was  just  thinking  the  very  same  thing,"  said  Sir 
Arthur. 

"Have  no  fears,"  interposed   Skeffy  ;   "I  shall  order  up 


478  TONY  BUTLER. 

the  fleet  from  Malta.     You  shall  have  a  frigate  —  a  line-of- 
battle  ship,  if  you  like  it  better." 

''  I'd  much  rather  we  had  post-horses  aud  au  escort,"  said 
Lady  Lyle. 

"  AYould  that  be  possible.  Darner?  " 

"  All  is  possible,  Sir  Arthur,  to  power  properly  exercised. 
I  '11  go  down  at  once  to  the  AYai-  Office,  aud  see  what  cau  be 
done." 

''If  it  were  perfectly  safe,"  said  Bella,  "  I  should  like  to 
drive  through  the  streets  and  see  what  is  going  on ;  and  as 
Alice  refuses  to  go  out,  we  are  just  enough  for  one  carriage." 
The  project  was  agreed  to,  all  the  more  readily  that  Skeff 
assured  them  his  presence  was  an  aegis  that  all  parties  would 
know  how  to  respect ;  he  was,  in  fact,  as  he  put  it,  a  sort  of 
emblematized  British  lion,  who  with  folded  paws  was  about 
to  take  an  airing  for  his  own  amusement. 

"  As  we  drive  along,"  w^hispered  he  to  Bella,  "  just  watch 
the  recognitions  fellows  will  throw  me,  —  a  look,  a  gesture, 
a  sign,  scarcely  perceptible,  but  enough  to  say,  '  Your  Ex- 
cellency may  depend  upon  us.'  " 

And  Bella  felt  a  certain  elation  at  the  thought  that  she 
was  the  chosen  one  of  a  man  so  eminent  and  so  distin- 
guished. And,  oh  dear,  let  us  not  be  severe  upon  her  for 
it!  If  we  could  not  make  occasional  swans  of  our  geese  in 
this  life,  we  should  be  very  ill  off  in  matters  of  ornithology. 
Away  they  drove  down  the  Chiaja  and  up  the  Toledo,  where, 
amidst  wild  yells  and  cries  for  the  King,  and  at  times  for 
Garibaldi,  a  dense  mass  of  people  surged  and  swaj^ed  like  a 
mighty  monster  awaking  out  of  slumber  and  arousing  to 
deeds  of  violence. 

The  populace  seemed  intoxicated,  but  not  with  wine  or 
with  joy,  but  a  sort  of  dare-devil  recklessness  which  sought 
something  —  anything  —  to  vent  its  passion  upon.  Lines  of 
men  linked  arm  in  arm,  and,  filling  the  full  breadth  of  the 
street,  marched  rapidly  on,  chanting  wild  songs ;  and  it  was 
strange  to  mark  in  these  the  old  gra^^-headed  feeble  man 
coupled  with  the  stalwart  youth,  or,  perhaps,  the  mere  boy. 
Here  and  there  were  groups  listening  to  some  street-orator, 
now  greeting  his  words  with  a  cheer,  now  with  a  burst  of 
vociferous  laughter;  and  through  all  these  went  other  men, 


UNPLEASANT  RECKONINGS.  479 

busily,  eagerly  whispering  to  this,  conferring  with  that, 
now  exerting  every  effort  of  persuasiveness,  now  seeming 
to  employ  incentives  to  vengeance. 

Except  the  carriage  where  sat  the  Lyles,  not  another 
vehicle  of  any  kind  was  to  be  seen;  and  as  the  horses 
moved  slowly  along  through  the  dense  crowd,  many  a  rude 
jest  and  droll  comment  was  passed  upon  the  matti  Inglesl, 
—  the  mad  English,  — who  had  taken  such  a  time  and  place 
for  a  carriage  airing.  Nor  was  the  courage  of  the  act 
unrecognized,  and  twice  or  thrice  a  wild  cheer  proclaimed 
what  they  thought  of  a  nation  whose  very  ladies  were  above 
all  fear  and  timidity. 

The  most  striking  feature  in  all  this  tumult  was  that 
soldiers  were  seen  everywhere  mixed  up  with  the  civilians; 
not  merely  furloughed  men  in  undress,  but  soldiers  in  full 
uniform  and  perfectly  armed,  but  yet  displaying,  sometimes 
ostentatiously,  by  the  way  they  carried  their  shakoes  or  their 
bayonets,  or  wore  their  coats  open  and  unbuttoned,  that 
they  no  longer  respected  the  claims  of  discipline. 

Patrols  on  foot  or  horseback  would  be  met,  too;  but  the 
men,  under  no  restraint,  would  not  only  exchange  words  of 
greeting  with  the  mob,  but  accept  offers  of  wine  or  cigars; 
and  it  was  seen  that  the  officers  were  either  powerless  to 
prevent  or  unwilling  to  curb  this  indiscipline. 

''What  does  all  this  portend,  Damer?"  asked  Sir  Arthur. 
"  We  hear  cheers  for  the  King ;  but  all  I  see  seems  to  threaten 
his  downfall." 

Skeffy  was  puzzled,  and  a  wiser  man  might  have  been 
puzzled;  but  his  diplomatic  instincts  forbade  such  a  humili- 
ating avowal,  and  so  he  merely  muttered  something  to  the 
purport  that  "We"  had  not  fully  determined  what  was  to  be 
the  issue;  and  that  till  "We "had  made  up  our  minds,  all 
these  signs  and  portents  were  mere  street-noises. 

If  I  am  not  perfectly  just  to  him  in  this  rendering  of  his 
explanation,  I  am,  at  least,  merciful  to  my  reader;  and, 
leaving  the  party  to  follow  out  the  exploration,  I  shall  return 
to  the  drawing-room  they  had  just  quitted,  and  where  Alice 
now  sat  alone,  and  deep  in  thought.  The  yells  and  cries 
that  filled  the  street  outside,  and  the  continual  uproar  that 
resounded  through  the  city,  were  all  unheeded  by  her;  and 


480  TONY  BUTLER. 

so  immersed  was  she  in  her  reflection,  that  when  a  servant 
entered  the  room  to  present  the  card  of  a  visitor,  she  was 
unaware  of  his  presence  till  he  had  twice  addressed  her. 

"It  cannot  be  for  us,"  said  she,  looking  at  the  name.  "I 
do  not  know  the  Count  d'Amalfi." 

"He  hopes  to  be  better  remembered  as  Mr.  Maitland," 
said  that  gentleman,  as,  pushing  wide  the  half-opened  door, 
he  approached  her  and  made  a  low  bow. 

The  servant  had  time  to  retire  and  shut  the  door  before 
Alice  had  sutticiently  recovered  herself  to  ask  Maitland  to 
be  seated.  So  coldly  was  the  request  conveyed,  however, 
that  if  he  was  not  determined  on  having  an  interview,  he 
would  have  affected  to  make  his  call  an  offer  of  some  sort 
of  attention,  and  taken  his  leave  almost  on  the  instant. 
Far  different  were  his  present  intentions;  and  as  he  depos- 
ited his  hat  and  cane,  and  took  his  place  in  front  of  her, 
there  was  a  methodical  slowness  that  indicated  purpose. 

"I  am  almost  afraid  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Maitland,"  she 
began,  "that  I  gave  orders  to  be  denied  to  all  visitors. 
They  have  all  gone  out  to  drive,  and  —  " 

"It  was  for  that  reason  that  I  took  this  opportunity  to 
call,  madam,"  said  he,  very  quietly,  but  in  a  tone  of  some 
decision.     "I  desired  to  see  you  all  alone." 

"Not,  surely,  if  you  were  aware  that  I  did  not  receive?" 

"Do  not  oblige  me  to  convict  m^'self,  IMrs.  Trafford;  for 
I,  too,  shall  be  almost  afraid  to  tell  the  truth ;  "  and  a  very 
faint  smile  moved  his  mouth  as  he  spoke. 

"But,  as  I  conjecture,  you  would  like  to  meet  my 
father  —  " 

"My  visit  at  present  is  for  3'ou,"  said  he,  interrupting; 
"and  as  I  cannot  assure  myself  how  long  the  opportunity 
may  last,  let  me  profit  by  it." 

She  became  very  pale;  some  fear  she  certainly  felt;  but 
there  was  more  of  anger  than  fear  in  the  thought  that  this 
man  was,  by  his  manner,  almost  asserting  a  right  to  see 
and  speak  with  her. 

"Mr.  Maitland  is  too  accomplished  a  man  of  the  world 
to  need  being  told  that,  when  a  person  has  declared  an 
indisposition  to  receive,  it  is  usually  deemed  enough  to 
secure  privacy." 


UNPLEASANT   RECKONINGS.  481 

"Usually, — 3'es;  but  there  are  occasions  which  are  not 
in  this  category." 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say  this  is  one  of  them,  sir?"  said 
she,  haughtily. 

''Most  certainly,  madam,  this  is  one  of  them!  "  As  Mait- 
land  said  this,  he  saw  the  color  mount  to  her  face ;  and  he 
saw,  too,  how,  now  that  her  proud  spirit  was,  as  it  were, 
challenged,  she  would  not  think  of  retreat,  but  brave  him, 
whatever  might  come  of  it. 

"Indeed!  "  said  she,  with  a  scornful  laugh,  — "indeed!  " 
and  the  last  syllable  was  drawn  out  in  an  accent  of  most 
insolent  irony. 

"Yes,  madam,"  he  continued,  in  a  tone  perfectly  calm 
and  unimpassioned;  "our  last  relations  together  fully  war- 
rant me  to  say  so  much;  and  however  presumptuous  it 
might  have  been  in  me  to  aspire  as  I  did,  the  gracious  favor 
with  which  I  was  listened  to  seemed  to  plead  for  me." 

"AYhat  favor  do  you  speak  of,  sir?"  said  she,  with 
evident  agitation. 

"I  must  not  risk  the  faint  hope  that  remains  to  me,  by 
recalling  what  you  may  not  wish  to  remember;  but  I  may  at 
least  ask  you  to  bring  to  mind  a  certain  evening  —  a  certain 
night  —  when  we  walked  together  in  the  garden  at  Tilney." 

"I  do  not  think  I  am  likely  to  forget  it,  sir;  some  anony- 
mous slanderer  has  made  it  the  pretext  of  a  most  insolent 
calumny.  I  do  not,  I  need  not  say,  connect  3^ou  in  any 
way  with  this  base  scandal ;  but  it  is  enough  to  make  the 
incident  the  reverse  of  a  pleasant  memory." 

"And  yet  it  was  the  happiest  of  my  whole  life." 

"  It  is  unfortunate,  sir,  that  we  should  look  back  to  an 
event  with  feelings  so  diametrically  opposite." 

Maitland  gave  no  heed  to  the  irony  of  her  tone,  but  went 
on:  "If  I  was  conscious  of  my  own  unworthiness,  I  had 
certain  things  in  my  favor  which  sers^ed  to  give  me  courage, 
—  not  the  least  of  these  was  your  brother's  friendship." 

"Mark  was  always  proud  of  being  Mr.  Maitland's  friend," 
said  she,  rather  touched  by  this  haughty  man's  humilit}^ 

"That  friendship  became  very  precious  to  me  when  I  knew 
his  sister.  Indeed,  from  that  hour  I  loved  him  as  a 
brother. " 

31 


482  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Forgive  me,  sir,  if  I  interrupt  you.  At  the  time  to 
which  you  allude  we  would  seem  to  have  been  living  in  a 
perfect  realm  of  misconceptions.  Surely  it  is  not  necessary 
to  revive  them;  surely,  now  that  we  have  awoke,  we  need 
not  take  up  the  clew  of  a  dream  to  assist  our  reflections." 

"What  maybe  the  misconceptions  you  refer  to?"  said 
he,  with  a  voice  much  shaken  and  agitated. 

"One  was,  it  would  appear,  that  Mr.  Maitland  made  me 
certain  professions.  Another,  that  he  was  —  that  he  had 
—  that  is,  that  he  held —  I  cannot  say  it,  sir;  and  I  beg 
you  to  spare  me  what  a  rash  temper  might  possibly  provoke 
me  to  utter." 

"Say  all  that  you  will;  I  loved  you,  Alice." 

"You  will  force  me  to  leave  you,  sir,  if  3'OU  thus  forget 
yourself." 

"1  loved  you,  and  I  love  you  still.  Do  not  go,  I  beg,  I 
implore  you.  As  the  proof  of  how  I  love  you,  I  declare 
that  I  know  all  that  you  have  heard  of  me,  all  that  you  have 
said  of  me,  —  everj^  harsh  and  cruel  word.  Ay,  Alice,  I 
have  read  them  as  your  hand  traced  them,  and  through  all, 
I  love  you." 

"I  will  not  stoop  to  ask  how,  sir;  but  I  will  say  that  the 
avowal  has  not  raised  you  in  my  estimation." 

"If  I  have  not  your  love,  I  will  never  ask  for  j^our 
esteem ;  I  wanted  3^our  affection  as  a  man  wants  that  which 
would  make  his  life  a  reality.  I  could  have  worked  for 
you;  I  could  have  braved  scores  of  things  I  have  ever 
shrunk  from;  and  I  had  a  right  to  it." 

"A  right! — what  right?" 

"The  right  of  him  who  loved  as  I  did,  and  was  as  ready 
to  prove  his  love.  The  man  who  has  done  what  I  have  is 
no  adventurer,  though  that  fair  hand  wrote  him  one.  Re- 
member that,  madam ;  and  remember  that  you  are  in  a  land 
where  men  accept  no  such  slights  as  this  you  would  pass 
upon  me."  His  eyes  glared  with  passion  as  he  spoke,  and 
his  dark  cheeks  grew  purple.  "Y^ou  are  not  without  those 
who  must  answer  for  your  levity." 

"Now,  sir,  I  leave  3^ou,"  said  she,  rising. 

"Not  yet.  Y^ou  shall  hear  me  out.  I  know  why  you  have 
treated  me  thus  falsely.     I  am  aware  who  is  my  rival." 


UNPLEASANT  RECKONINGS.  483 

*'Let  me  pass,  sir." 

He  placed  his  back  to  the  door,  and  folded  his  arms  on 
his  breast;  but  though  he  made  au  immense  effort  to  seem 
calm,  his  lip  shook  as  he  spoke.  "You  shall  hear  me  out. 
I  tell  you,  I  know  my  rival,  and  I  am  ready  and  prepared 
to  stake  my  pretensions  against  his." 

"Go  on,  sir,  go  on;  very  little  more  in  this  strain  will 
efface  any  memory  I  preserved  of  what  you  first  appeared 
to  me." 

"Oh,  Alice!  "  cried  he,  in  a  voice  of  deep  anguish.  "It 
is  despair  has  brought  me  to  this.  When  I  came,  I  thought 
I  could  have  spoken  with  calm  and  self-restraint;  but  when 
I  saw  you  —  saw  what  I  once  believed  might  have  been  mine 
—  I  forgot  all  —  all  but  my  misery." 

"Suffer  me  to  pass  out,  sir,"  said  she,  coldly.  He  moved 
back,  and  opened  the  door  wide,  and  held  it  thus  as  she 
swept  past  him,  without  a  word  or  a  look. 

Maitland  pressed  his  hat  deep  over  his  brow,  and  de- 
scended the  stairs  slowly,  one  by  one.  A  carriage  drove  to 
the  door  as  he  reached  it,  and  his  friend  Caftarelli  sprang 
out  and  grasped  his  hand. 

"Come  quickly,  Maitland!"  cried  he.  "The  King  has 
left  the  palace.  The  arm}^  is  moving  out  of  Naples  to  take 
up  a  position  at  Capua.  All  goes  badly.  The  fleet  is 
wavering,  and  Garibaldi  passed  last  night  at  Salerno." 

"And  what  do  I  care  for  all  this?     Let  me  pass." 

"Care  for  it!  It  is  life  or  death,  cnro  mio  !  In  two  hours 
more  the  populace  will  tear  in  pieces  such  men  as  you  and 
myself,  if  we  're  found  here.  Listen  to  those  yells,  Morte 
ai  Beali!  Is  it  with  '  Death  to  the  Royalists!'  ringing 
in  our  ears  we  are  to  linger  here?  " 

"This  is  as  good  a  spot  to  die  in  as  another,"  said  IMait- 
land;  and  he  lighted  his  cigar  and  sat  down  on  the  stone 
bench  beside  the  door. 

"The  Twenty-fifth  of  the  Line  are  in  open  revolt,  and  the 
last  words  of  the  King  were,  '  Give  them  to  Maitland,  and 
let  him  deal  with  them.'  " 

Maitland  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  smoked  on. 

"Genario  has  hoisted  the  cross  of  Savoy  over  the  fort  at 


484  TONY  BUTLER. 

Baia,"  continued  the  other,  "and  no  one  can  detennine 
what  is  to  be  done.     They  all  say,  'Ask  Maitland.'  " 

"Imitate  him!  Do  the  same  over  the  Royal  Palace!" 
said  the  other,  mockingly. 

"There,  there!  Listen  to  that  cry!  The  mob  are  pour- 
ing down  the  Chiaja.     Come  away." 

"Let  us  look  at  the  scoundrels,"  said  Maitland,  taking 
his  friend's  arm,  and  moving  into  the  street. 

Caffarelli  pushed  and  half  lifted  him  into  the  carriage, 
and  they  drove  off  at  speed. 


CHAPTER   LIV. 


SKEFF    DAMER    TESTED. 


When  the  Lyles  returned  from  their  drive,  it  was  to  find 
that  Alice  was  too  ill  to  come  down  to  dinner.  She  had, 
she  said,  a  severe  headache,  and  wished  to  be  left  perfectly 
quiet  and  alone.  This  was  a  sore  disappointment  to  Bella, 
brimful  of  all  she  had  seen  and  heard,  and  burning  with 
impatience  to  impart  how  Skeffy  had  been  sent  for  by  the 
King,  and  what  he  said  to  his  Majesty,  and  how  the  royal 
plans  had  been  modified  by  his  sage  words ;  and,  in  fact, 
that  the  fate  of  the  Neapolitan  kingdom  was  at  that  moment 
in  the  hands  of  that  "gifted  creature." 

It  was  such  she  called  him ;  and  I  beg  my  kind  reader 
not  to  think  the  less  of  her  that  she  so  magnified  her  idol. 
The  happiest  days  of  our  lives  are  the  least  real,  just  as 
the  evils  which  never  befall  us  are  the  greatest. 

Bella  was  sincerely  sorry  for  her  sister's  headache;  but 
with  all  that,  she  kept  stealing  every  now  and  then  into  her 
room  to  tell  what  Skeff  said  to  Caraffa,  and  the  immense 
effect  it  produced.  "And  then,  dearest,"  she  went  on,  "we 
have  really  done  a  great  deal  to-day.  "We  have  sent  off 
three  '  formal  despatches,'  and  two  '  confidentials,'  and 
Skeff  has  told  my  Lord  B.,  Secretary  of  State  though  he  be, 
a  piece  of  his  mind,  —  he  does  write  so  ably  when  he  is 
roused ;  and  he  has  declared  that  he  will  not  carry  out  his 
late  instructions.  Few  men  would  have  had  courage  to  say 
that;  but  they  know  that,  if  Skeff  liked,  he  has  only  to  go 
into  Parliament:  there  are  scores  of  boroughs  actually  fight- 
ing for  him;  he  would  be  positively  terrible  in  opposition." 

A  deep  wearied  sigh  was  all  Alice's  response. 

"Yes,  dearest,  I'm  sure  I  am  tiring  you;  but  I  must  tell 
how  we  liberated  Mr.  M'Gruder.     He  has   been,  he   says, 


486  TONY   BUTLER. 

fifty- three  days  in  prison,  and  really  he  looks  wretched.  I 
might  have  felt  more  for  the  man,  but  for  the  cold  good-for- 
nothing  way  he  took  all  Skeff's  kindness.  Instead  of  burst- 
ing with  gratitude,  and  calling  him  his  deliverer,  all  he  said 
was,  'Well,  sir,  I  think  it  was  high  time  to  have  done  this, 
which,  for  aught  I  see,  might  just  as  easily  have  been  done 
three  or,  perhaps,  four  weeks  ago.'  Skeff  was  magnificent; 
he  only  waved  his  hand,  and  said,  '  Go ;  you  are  free ! '  'I 
know  that  well  enough,'  said  he,  in  the  same  sturdy  voice; 
'  and  I  intend  to  make  use  of  my  freedom  to  let  the  British 
people  know  how  I  have  been  treated.  You  '11  see  honorable 
mention  of  it  all,  and  yourself,  too,  in  the  "  Times,"  before 
ten  days  are  over. '  " 

"My  dear  Bella,  my  head  is  racking;  would  you  just  wet 
that  handkerchief  and  lay  it  on  m}-  forehead  ?  " 

"My  poor  sweet  Alice!  and  I  so  cruel,  with  all  my  stupid 
stories;  but  I  thought  you  'd  like  to  hear  about  Tony." 

"Tony!  —  what  of  Tony?  "  asked  she,  raising  herself  on 
one  elbow  and  looking  up. 

"Well,  dearest,  it  was  while  in  search  after  Tony  that 
M'Gruder  got  imprisoned.  They  were  sworn  friends,  it 
seems.  You  know,  dear,  Tony  was  never  very  particular 
in  his  choice  of  friends." 

"But  what  of  him,  —  where  is  he?  " 

"I  '11  tell  you  everything,  if  you  '11  only  have  a  little 
patience.  Tony,  who  was  living  with  M'Gruder  in  Leg- 
horn, —  a  partner,  I  think,  in  some  odious  traffic,  —  cast-off 
clothes,  1  believe,  —  grew  tired  of  it,  or  got  into  debt,  or 
did  something  that  brought  him  into  trouble,  and  he  ran 
away  and  joined  that  mad  creature  Garibaldi." 

"Well,  go  on." 

"Well,  he  had  not  been  gone  more  than  ten  days  or  so, 
when  a  lawyer  came  out  from  England  to  sa}'  that  his  uncle. 
Sir  Somebody  Butler,  had  died  and  left  him  all  he  had,  — 
a  fine  estate,  and  I  don't  know  bow  much  money.  When 
Mr.  M'Gruder  was  quite  satisfied  that  all  this  was  true,  — 
and,  like  a  canny  Scotchman,  he  examined  it  thoroughl}^,  — 
he  set  off  himself  to  find  Tony  and  tell  him  his  good  news ; 
for,  as  he  said,  it  would  have  been  a  terrible  thing  to  let 
him  go  risk  his  life  for  nothing,  now  that  he  had  a  splendid 


SKEFF  DAMER  TESTED.  487 

fortune  and  large  estate.  Indeed,  you  should  have  heard 
Mr.  M'Gruder  himself  on  this  theme.  It  was  about  the 
strangest  medley  of  romance  and  worldliness  I  ever  listened 
to.  After  all,  he  was  a  stanch  friend,  and  he  braved  no 
common  dangers  in  his  pursuit.  He  had  scarcely  landed, 
however,  in  Sicily,  when  he  was  arrested  and  thrown  into 
prison." 

"And  never  met  Tony?  " 

"Xever, — of  course  not;  how  could  he?  He  did  not 
even  dare  to  speak  of  one  who  served  under  Garibaldi  till 
he  met  Skeff3^" 

"But  where  is  Tony?  Is  he  safe?  How  are  we  to  hear 
of  him?"  asked  Alice,  hurriedly. 

"Skeff  has  undertaken  all  that,  Alice.  You  know  how 
he  has  relations  with  men  of  every  party,  and  is  equally  at 
home  with  the  wildest  followers  of  Mazzini  and  the  cour- 
tiers about  the  throne.  He  says  he  '11  send  off  a  confiden- 
tial messenger  at  once  to  Garibaldi's  camp  with  a  letter  for 
Tony.  Indeed,  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  prevent  him  go- 
ing himself,  he  is  so  attached  to  Tony,  but  I  begged  and 
implored  him  not  to  go." 

"Tony  would  have  done  as  much  for  him,"  said  Alice, 
gloomily. 

"Perhaps  he  would;  but  remember  the  difference  between 
the  men,  Alice.  If  anything  should  befall  Skeffy,  who  is 
there  to  replace  him?" 

Alice,  perhaps,  could  not  satisfactorily  answer  this,  for  she 
lay  back  on  her  bed,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"Not,  indeed,  that  he  would  listen  to  me  when  I  made 
that  appeal  to  him,  but  he  kept  on  repeating,  *  Tony  is  the 
finest,  truest-hearted  fellow  I  ever  met.  He  'd  never  have 
left  a  friend  in  the  lurch;  he'd  never  have  thought  of  him- 
self if  another  was  in  danger;  and  help  him  I  must  and 
will:  '  and  that's  the  reason  we  are  waiting  dinner,  dear, 
for  he  would  go  off  to  the  Minister  of  War  or  the  President 
of  the  Council;  and  he  told  papa,  as  he  shook  hands,  on  no 
account  to  wait  for  him,  for  he  might  be  detained  longer 
than  he  expected." 

As  she  spoke,  a  tap  came  to  the  door,  and  a  servant 
announced  dinner. 


488  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Has  Mr.  Darner  arrived?  "  asked  Bella,  eagerly. 

"No,  ma'am,  but  Sir  Arthm'  has  just  got  a  note  from 
him." 

"I  must  see  what  he  sa3^s!  "  cried  she,  and  left  the  room. 

Sir  Arthur  was  reading  the  letter  when  she  entered. 

"Here's  Skeff  gone  off  to  what  he  calls  the  '  front;'  he 
says  that  Tony  Butler  has  joined  the  insurgents,  and  he 
must  get  him  out  of  their  hands  at  any  price." 

"But  of  course,  papa,  you  '11  not  permit  it;  you  '11  forbid 
him  peremptorily,"  broke  in  Bella. 

"I  'm  not  so  sr.re  of  that,  Bella;  because,  amongst  other 
reasons,  I  'm  not  so  sure  he  'd  mind  me.  Our  gifted  friend 
is  endowed  with  considerable  self-will." 

"Immense  determination,  I  should  rather  call  it,  papa; 
but,  pray,  try  to  stop  this  mad  freak.  He  is  not  certainly 
called  on  to  expose  such  a  life  as  his,  and  at  such  a 
moment." 

"What  am  I  to  do?" 

"Go  over  to  him  at  once;  declare  that  you  have  the  right 
to  speak  on  such  a  subject.  Say  that  if  he  is  pleased  to 
overlook  the  necessity  of  his  presence  here  at  this  crisis,  he 
ought  to  remember  his  position  with  regard  to  us,  —  ought 
to  think  of  me,"  said  she,  with  a  burst  of  grief  that  ended 
in  a  shower  of  tears,   and  drove  her  from  the  room. 

Sir  Arthur  was  far  more  disposed  to  sit  down  to  his 
dinner  than  go  off  on  this  mission  of  affection;  but  Lady 
Lyle  took  the  same  view  of  the  case  as  her  daughter,  and 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  And  although  the  bland  butler 
repeated,  "Soup  is  served,  sir,"  the  poor  man  had  to  step 
downstairs  to  his  carriage  and  drive  off  to  the  Legation. 

On  arriving  there,  he  learned  that  his  Excellency  had 
gone  to  see  the  Prime  Minister.  Sir  Arthur  set  off  in  the 
pursuit,  which  led  him  from  one  great  office  of  the  state  to 
another,  always  to  discover  that  the  object  of  his  search 
had  just  left  only  five  minutes  before;  till,  at  length,  his 
patience  became  exhausted  on  hearing  that  Mr.  Damer  was 
last  seen  in  company  with  an  officer  of  rank  on  the  road  to 
Castelamare,  whither,  certainly,  he  determined  not  to  follow 
him. 

It  was  near  nine  o'clock  when  he  got  home  to  report  him- 


SKEFF  DAMER   TESTED.  489 

self  unsuccessful,  to  meet  dark  looks  from  his  wife  and 
daughter,  and  sit  down  alone  to  a  comfortless  dinner, 
chagrined  and  disconcerted. 

Lady  Lvle  tried  to  interest  him  by  relating  the  news  of 
Tony  Butler's  accession  to  fortune;  but  the  re-heated 
mutton  and  the  half-cold  entrees  were  too  trying  to  leave 
any  portion  of  his  nature  open  to  such  topics,  and  he  sulkily 
muttered  something  about  the  folly  of  "  having  snubbed  the 
young  fellow,"  —  a  taunt  Lady  L34e  resented  by  rising  and 
leaving  him  to  his  own  reflections. 

And  now  to  turn  to  Skeff  Damer.  I  am  forced  to  con- 
fess, and  I  do  not  make  the  confession  without  a  certain 
pain,  that  our  gifted  friend  had  not  that  amount  of  accep- 
tance with  the  Ministers  of  the  King  that  his  great  talents 
and  his  promise  might  be  supposed  to  have  inspired;  nor 
had  he  succeeded  in  acquiring  for  the  country  he  represented 
the  overwhelming  influence  he  believed  to  be  her  due. 
When,  therefore,  he  drove  to  Caraffa's  house,  the  Prince 
frankly  told  him,  what  certainl3'  was  true,  that  he  had 
affairs  far  too  weighty  on  his  mind  to  enter  upon  that 
small  question  H.  M.'s  Charge  d' Affaires  desired  to  discuss. 
"Try  Carini,"  said  he,  ''the  Minister  of  Grace  and  Justice; 
he  looks  after  the  people  who  break  the  law."  Skeff  grew 
angry,  and  the  Minister  bowed  him  out.  He  went  in  suc- 
cession to  some  five  or  six  others,  all  occupied,  all  over- 
whelmed with  cares,  troubles,  and  anxieties.  At  last,  by  a 
mere  accident,  he  chanced  upon  Filangieri  going  off  to  wait 
on  the  King;  he  was  accompanied  by  a  small  man,  in  a 
very  gorgeous  uniform,  studded  over  with  stars  and 
decorations. 

In  a  few  hurried  words  Skeff  told  how  his  friend,  a  man 
of  rank  and  fortune,  had  been  seduced  b}^  some  stupid 
representations  to  take  senice  with  Garibaldi,  and  that  it 
was  all-important  to  rescue  him  from  such  evil  associations, 
and  restore  him  at  once  to  his  friends  and  country. 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Wherever  Garibaldi  may  be,  —  I  can't  tell." 

"He's  nearer  than  we  like,"  said  the  other,  with  a  faint 
smile.  "Are  you  sure  your  friend  will  return  with  you, 
even  if  you  should  track  him  out? " 


490 


TONY  BUTLER. 


"I  think  I  can  answer  for  him.  I  am  almost  certain 
that  I  can." 

"Can  you  answer  for  Garibaldi,  too?  —  will  he  give  him 
up?" 

"I  believe  Garibaldi  cares  a  great  deal  for  the  good  opin- 
ion of  England;  and  when  he  sees  me^  her  Majesty's  —  " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  can  understand  that.  Well,  I  have  no  time 
to  give  you  for  more  consideration  of  the  matter;  but  I '11 
do  better.  I'll  give  you  this  gentleman, — my  aide-de- 
camp. Colonel  the  Count  M'Caskey;  he'll  pass  you  through 
our  lines,  and  go,  as  flag  of  truce,  to  the  head-quarters  of 
the  rebels.  The  whole  thing  is  a  blunder,  and  I  am  doing 
exceedingly  wrong;  but  here  we  are,  making  one  mistake 
after  another  every  day,  and  all  regularity  and  order  are 
totally  forgotten."  Turning  to  M'Caskey,  he  took  him  aside 
for  a  few  seconds  and  spoke  eagerly  and  rapidly  to  him, 
and  then,  once  more  shaking  Skeff's  hand,  he  wished  him 
well  through  his  adventure  and  drove  off. 

"Whenever  you  have  all  in  readiness,  sir,"  said  M'Cas- 
key, slightly  raising  his  hat,  — "and  I  hope  your  carriage 
is  a  comfortable  one, —  take  me  up  at  the  Aquila  d'  Oro,  two 
doors  from  the  Cafe  di  Spagno ; "  uttering  the  words  in  a 
tone  of  such  positive  command  that  Skeffy  had  only  to 
accede;  and,  coldly  bowing  to  each  other,  they  separated. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

AMONGST   THE    GARIBALDIANS. 

By  heavy  bribery  and  much  cajolery,  Skeff  Darner  secured  a 
carriage  and  horses,  and  presented  himself  at  the  Cafe  di 
Spagua  a  little  before  midnight.  It  was  not,  however,  till 
he  had  summoned  M'Caskey  for  the  third  time  that  the 
gallant  Colonel  arose  and  joined  him. 

"  I  suspect  that  waiter  did  not  tell  you  I  was  here,  and 
waiting  for  you?"  said  Skeff,  somewhat  irritated. 

*'  I  rather  apprehend,"  replied  M'Caskey,  "  that  you  were 
not  aware  I  was  at  supper." 

With  this  brief  passage  of  arms  each  sank  back  into  his 
corner,   and  nothing  more  was  said. 

For  a  long  while  the  way  led  through  that  long  suburb  of 
Naples  that  lies  on  the  south  of  the  city,  and  the  tramp  of 
the  horses  over  the  pavement  would  have  made  any  conver- 
sation difficult  to  hear.  At  length,  however,  they  gained 
the  smooth  road,  and  then  Skeff  discovered,  from  the  long- 
drawn  breathings  of  his  companion,  that  he  was  sound 
asleep. 

By  the  small  wax  taper  with  which  he  lighted  his  cigar, 
Skeff  examined  the  features  of  the  man ;  and,  brief  as  was 
the  inspection,  there  was  enough  seen  to  show  him  that  he 
was  not  a  subject  for  either  dictation  or  raillery.  The  hard, 
stern,  thin-lipped  mouth,  the  knitted  brows,  the  orbits 
marked  with  innumerable  wrinkles,  and  an  ugly  scar,  evi- 
dently from  a  sabre,  that  divided  one  whisker,  and  reached 
from  nigh  the  ear  to  the  chin,  presented  enough  to  show  that 
he  might  easily  have  chanced  upon  a  more  genial  fellow- 
traveller. 

Skeff  knew  that  the  Neapolitan  service  had  for  some 
years  back  attracted  adventurers  from  various  countries. 
Poles,  Americans,  with  Irish  and  Hungarian  refugees,  had 


492  TOXY  BUTLER. 

flocked  to  the  scene  of  what  they  foresaw  must  be  a  struggle, 
and  taken  their  side  with  the  Royalists  or  against  them  as 
profit  or  inclination  prompted.  Now  this  man's  name, 
M'Caskey,  proclaimed  him  as  Irish  or  Scotch ;  and  the 
chances  were,  in  either  case,  if  a  renegade  from  his  own 
country,  he  would  not  be  over  well  disposed  towards  one 
who  represented  the  might  and  majesty  of  England. 

"  If  I  could  onl}^  let  him  see,"  thought  Skeff,  "  that  I  am 
one  of  those  fellows  who  have  done  everything  and  know 
every  one,  a  thorough  man  of  the  world,  and  no  red-tapist, 
no  official  pendant,  we  should  get  on  all  the  better."  He 
puffed  away  at  his  cigar  as  he  thus  mused,  turning  over  in 
his  mind  by  what  species  of  topic  he  should  open  acquaint- 
ance with  his  companion. 

'*  That's  good  tobacco,"  said  M'Caskey,  without  opening 
his  e3'es.     "Who's  smoking  the  cheroot?" 

"  I  am.     Ma}'  I  offer  you  one?" 

"  A  dozen  if  3'ou  like."  said  the  Colonel,  giving  himself  a 
shake,   and  sitting  bolt  upright. 

Skeff  held  out  his  cigar-case,  and  the  other  coolly  emptied 
it,  throwing  the  contents  into  his  hat,  which  lay  on  the 
cushion  in  front  of  him. 

"  AVhen  old  Olozaga  was  Captain-General  of  Cuba,  he 
always  supplied  me  with  havannahs ;  but  when  O'Donnell's 
part}'  came  into  power,  I  came  down  to  cheroots,  and  there  I 
have  been  ever  since.     These  are  not  bad." 

"They  are  considered  particilarly  good,  sir,"  said  Skeff, 
coldly. 

"  That  I  will  not  say;  but  I  own  I  am  not  easy  to  please 
either  in  wine,  women,  or  tobacco." 

"  You  have  had  probably  large  experiences  of  all  three?  " 

"  I  should  like  much  to  meet  the  man  who  called  himself 
my  equal." 

"  It  might  be  presumptuous  in  me.  perhaps,  to  stand  for- 
ward on  such  ground ;  but  I,  too,  have  seen  something  of 
life." 

"  You!  you!  "  said  M'Caskey,  with  a  most  frank  imper- 
tinence in  his  tone. 

"Yes,  sir,  I,  I,  —  Mr.  Skeffington  Darner.  Her  Majesty's 
Representative  and  Charge  d' Affaires  at  this  Court." 


AMONGST  THE   GARIBALDIANS.  493 

*'  Where  the  deuce  was  it  I  heard  ^^our  name?  Darner  — 
Darner  —  Skeff  —  Skeffy  —  I  think  they  called  you  ?  "Who 
could  it  be  that  mentioned  you  ? " 

"  Not  impossibly  the  newspapers,  though  I  suspect  they 
did  not  employ  the  familiarity  you  speak  of." 

"Well,  Skeff,  what's  all  this  business  we're  bent  on? 
What  wildgoose  chase  are  we  after  here?" 

Damer  was  almost  sick  with  indignation  at  the  fellow's 
freedom ;  he  nearly  burst  with  the  effort  it  cost  him  to 
repress  his  passion ;  but  he  remembered  how  poor  Tony 
Butler's  fate  lay  in  the  balance,  and  that  if  anything  should 
retard  his  journey  by  even  an  hour,  that  one  hour  might 
decide  his  friend's  destiny. 

"  Might  I  take  the  liberty  to  observe,  sir,  that  our  ac- 
quaintance is  of  the  very  shortest ;  and  until  I  sliall  desire, 
which  I  do  not  anticipate,  the  privilege  of  addressing  you  by 
your  Christian  name  —  " 

"I  am  called  Milo,"  said  M'Caskey ;  "but  no  man  ever 
called  me  so  but  the  late  Duke  of  Wellington ;  and  once, 
indeed,  in  a  moment  of  enthusiasm,  poor  Byron." 

"  I  shall  not  imitate  them,  and  I  desire  that  you  may  know 
me  as  Mr.  Damer." 

"  Damer  or  Skeffy  —  I  don't  care  a  rush  which  —  only  tell 
me  where  are  we  going,  and  what  are  we  going  for  ?  " 

Skeff  proceeded  in  leisurely  fashion,  but  with  a  degree  of 
cold  reserve  that  he  hoped  might  check  all  freedom,  to  ex- 
plain that  he  was  in  search  of  a  young  countryman,  whom  he 
desired  to  recall  from  his  service  with  Garibaldi,  and  restore 
to  his  friends  in  England. 

"  And  you  expect  me  to  cross  over  to  Garibaldi's  lines?" 
asked  M'Caskey,  with  a  grin. 

"  I  certainly  reckon  on  your  accompanying  me  wherever  I 
deem  it  essential  to  proceed  in  furtherance  of  my  object. 
Your  General  said  as  much  when  he  offered  me  your 
services." 

"  No  man  disposes  of  M'Caskey  but  the  Sovereign  he 
serves." 

"  Then  I  can't  see  what  you  have  come  for !  "  cried  Skeff, 
angrily. 

"Take  care,  take  care,"  said  the  other,  slowly. 


494  TONY   BUTLER. 

*'  Take  care  of  what?  " 

"  Take  care  of  Skeffington  Damer,  who  is  running  his 
head  into  a  very  considerable  scrape.  I  have  the  most 
tenacious  of  memories ;  and  there 's  not  a  word  —  not  a 
syllable  —  falls  from  you,  I  '11  not  make  you  accountable  for 
hereafter." 

"  If  you  imagine,  sir,  that  a  tone  of  braggadocio  —  " 

"  There  you  go  again.  Braggadocio  costs  blood,  my 
young  fellow." 

"  I  'm  not  to  be  bullied." 

"  No ;   but  you  might  be  shot." 

"You'll  find  me  as  ready  as  yourself  with  the  pistol." 

"I  am  charmed  to  hear  it,  though  I  never  met  a  fellow 
brought  up  at  a  desk  that  was  so." 

Skeff  was  by  no  means  deficient  in  courage,  and,  taken 
with  a  due  regard  to  all  the  conventional  usages  of  such 
cases,  he  would  have  "met  his  man"  as  became  a  gentle- 
man ;  but  it  was  such  a  new  thing  in  his  experiences  to 
travel  along  in  a  carriage  arranging  the  terms  of  a  duel  with 
the  man  who  ought  to  have  been  his  pleasant  companion, 
and  who  indeed,  at  the  very  moment,  was  smoking  his 
cheroots,  that  he  lost  himself  in  utter  bewilderment  and 
confusion. 

"What  does  that  small  flask  contain?"  said  M'Caskey, 
pointing  to  a  straw-covered  bottle,  whose  neck  protruded 
from  the  pocket  of  the  carriage. 

"  Cherry  brandy,"  said  Skeff,  dryly,  as  he  buttoned  the 
pocket-flap  over  it. 

"It  is  years  upon  years  since  I  tasted  that  truly  British 
cordial." 

Skeff  made  no  reply. 

"They  never  make  it  abroad,  except  in  Switzerland,  and 
there,  too,  badly." 

Still  Skeff  was  silent. 

"  Have  you  got  a  sandwich  with  you?  " 

"There  is  something  eatable  in  that  basket, — I  don't 
know  what,"  said  Skeff,  pointing  to  a  little  neatly  corded 
hamper.  "  But  I  thought  you  had  just  finished  supper  when 
I  drove  up." 

"  You  're  a  Londoner,  I  take  it,"  said  M'Caskey. 


(( 


AMONGST  THE   GAKIBALDIANS.  495 

Why  so,  sir  ?  for  what  reason  do  you  suppose  so  ?  " 
The  man  who  reminds  another  of   the   small   necessity 
there  is  to   press  him  to  take  something  —  be   it  meat  or 
drink  —  must  be  a  Cockney." 

"  I  am  neither  a  Cockney,  nor  accustomed  to  listen  to 
impertinence." 

"  Hand  me  j^our  flask  and  I  '11  give  you  my  opinion  of  it, 
and  that  will  be  better  than  this  digression." 

The  impudence  seemed  superhuman,  and  in  this  way  over- 
came all  power  of  resistance ;  and  Skeff}^  actual!}^  sat  there 
looking  on  while  M'Caskey  cut,  the  cords  of  the  little 
provision-basket,  and  arranged  the  contents  on  the  front 
seat  of  the  carriage,  assuring  him,  as  he  ate,  that  he  "had 
tasted  worse." 

For  some  time  the  Major  continued  to  eat  and  drink,  and 
was  so  completely  immersed  in  this  occupation  as  to  seem 
quite  oblivious  of  his  companion.  He  then  lighted  his  cigar 
and  smoked  on  till  they  reached  Caserta,  where  the  carriage 
halted  to  change  horses. 

"The  fellow  is  asking  for  something  for  the  ostler,"  said 
M'Caskey,  nudging  Skeffy  with  his  elbow  as  he  spoke. 

"My  servant,  sir,  looks  to  these  details,"  said  Skeffy, 
haughtily. 

*'Take  these,  old  boy,"  said  M'Caskey,  pitching  out  to 
him  the  basket  with  the  fragments  of  his  late  meal,  and  the 
silver  forks  and  cup  it  contained ;  and  the  horses  whirled 
the  carriage  along  at  full  speed  as  he  did  so. 

"You  are  perfectly  munificent,  sir,"  cried  Skeff,  angrily, 
*'with  what  does  not  belong  to  you.  The  proprietor  of  the 
Hotel  d'  Universo  will  probably  look  to  you  for  payment  for 
his  property." 

"If  your  friend  of  the  Universo  has  a  salt  spoon  of  his 
own  this  time  to-morrow,  he  '11  be  a  lucky  dog." 

"How  so?     What  do  j'ou  mean?" 

"I  mean,  sir,  that  as  the  troops  withdraw,  pillage  will 
begin.  There  is  but  one  force  in  Naples  that  could  control 
a  mob." 

"And  that  is?" 

"The  Camorra!  and  but  one  man  could  command  the 
Camorra,  and  he  is  here!  " 


496  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Indeed!"  said  Skeff,  with  the  very  faintest  possible 
sarcasm. 

"As  I  tell  you,  sir.  Colonel  M'Caskey  might  have  saved 
that  city;  and,  instead  of  it,  he  is  rumbling  along  over  a 
paved  road,  going  heaven  knows  where,  with  heaven  knows 
whom,  for  heaven  knows  what!  " 

"You  are  either  rude  or  forgetful,  sir.  I  have  already 
told  you  my  name  and  quality." 

"So  you  have,  Skeff;  but  as  a  man  rises  in  the  service, 
he  forgets  the  name  of  the  uncommissioned  officers.  You 
are  attache,  or  what  is  it?" 

"I  am  Charge  d' Affaires  of  Great  Britain." 

"And  devilish  few  will  be  the  affairs  you  '11  have  in  your 
charge  this  day  week." 

"How  do  you  make  out  that?  " 

"First  of  all,  if  we  are  to  pass  through  our  lines  to  reach 
Garibaldi,  all  our  fellows  will  fire  a  parting  salute  after  us 
as  we  go,  — ay,  and  with  ball.  Secondly,  as  we  approach 
the  rebels,  the}^  '11  pay  us  the  same  attention." 

"Not  with  our  flag  of  truce  flying." 

"l^our  flag  of  truce,  Skeff y,  will  only  show  them  that  we 
come  unarmed,  and  make  their  aim  all  the  steadier  in 
consequence." 

"And  why  was  I  told  that  your  presence  would  be  protec- 
tion?" 

"Because,  sir,  if  it  should  fail  to  be,  it  is  that  no  other 
man's  in  Europe  could  be  such." 

"I  '11  not  turn  back,  if  you  mean  that,"  said  Skeff,  boldly; 
and  for  the  first  time  on  the  journey  M'Caskey  turned  round 
and  took  a  leisurely  survey  of  his  companion. 

"Y^ou  are,  I  hope,  satisfied  with  my  personal  appearance," 
said  Skeff,  insolently. 

"Washy,  washy,"  said  M'Caskey,  dryly;  "but  I  have  met 
two  or  three  of  the  same  stamp  who  had  pluck." 

"The  freedom  of  your  tongue,  sir,  inclines  me  very  con- 
siderably to  doubt  i/ours.^^ 

M'Caskey  made  a  bound  on  his  seat,  and  threw  his  cigar 
through  the  window,  while  he  shouted  to  the  postilion  to 
stop. 

"Why  should  he  stop?"  asked  Skeff. 


AMONGST  THE   GARIBALDIANS.  497 

"Let  us  settle  this  at  once;  we  '11  take  each  of  us  one  of 
the  carriage  lamps  and  fire  at  the  word  three.  One  —  two 
—  three!     Stop,  J  say." 

''No,  sir;  I  shall  hold  myself  at  your  orders,  time  and 
place  fitting,  but  I  '11  neither  shoot  uor  be  shot  at  like  a 
brigand." 

"I  have  travelled  with  many  men,  but  in  my  long  and 
varied  experience,  I  never  saw  a  fellow  so  full  of  objec- 
tions. You  oppose  ever^'thing.  Now  1  mean  to  go  asleep; 
have  you  anything  against  that.^  and  what  is  it?" 

"Nothing,  — nothing  whatever!  "  muttered  Skeff,  who  for 
the  first  time  heard  words  of  comfort  from  his  companion's 
lips. 

Poor  Skeff!  is  it  too  much  to  say  that,  if  you  had  ever 
imagined  the  possibility  of  such  a  fellow-traveller,  you 
would  have  thought  twice  ere  you  went  on  this  errand  of 
friendship?  Perhaps  it  might  be  unfair  to  allege  so  much; 
but  unquestionably,  if  his  ardor  were  not  damped,  his  devo- 
tion to  his  friend  was  considerably  disturbed  by  thoughts  of 
himself  and  his  own  safety. 

"Where  could  this  monster  have  come  from?  What  land 
could  have  given  him  birth?  What  life  had  he  led?  How 
could  a  fellow  of  such  insolent  pretensions  have  escaped 
being  flayed  alive  ere  he  reached  the  age  he  looked  to  be? 

Last  of  all,  was  it  in  malice  and  out  of  malevolence  that 
Filangieri  had  given  him  this  man  as  his  guide,  well  know- 
ing what  their  companionship  must  end  in?  This  last  sus- 
picion, reassuring  so  far,  as  it  suggested  dreams  of  personal 
importance,  rallied  him  a  little,  and  at  last  he  fell  asleep. 

The  hours  of  the  night  rolled  over  thus ;  and  just  as  the 
dawn  was  breaking  the  caleche  rattled  into  the  ruinous  old 
piazza  of  Nocera.  Early  as  it  was,  the  market-place  was 
full  of  people,  amongst  whom  were  many  soldiers,  with  or 
without  arms,  but,  evidently,  under  no  restraint  of  discip- 
line, and,  to  all  seeming,  doubtful  and  uncertain  what  to  do. 

Aroused  from  his  sleep  by  the  sudden  stoppage  of  the 
carriage,  M'Caskey  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  out.  "What 
is  all  this?"  cried  he.  "Who  are  these  fellows  I  see  here 
in  uniform?     What  are  they?  " 

"Part  of  Cardarelli's  brigade,  your  Excellenc}',"  said  a 

32 


498  TONY  BUTLEK. 

cafe-keeper  who  had  come  to  the  carriage  to  induce  the 
travellers  to  alight.  "General  Cardarelli  has  surrendered 
Soveria  to  Garibaldi,  and  his  men  have  dispersed." 

"And  is  there  no  officer  in  command  here  to  order  these 
fellows  into  arrest?"  cried  M'Caskey,  as  he  sprang  out  of 
the  carriage  into  the  midst  of  them.  "Fall  in!"  shouted 
he,  in  a  voice  of  thunder;  "fall  in,  and  be  silent:  the  fellow 
who  utters  a  word  I  '11  put  a  bullet  through." 

If  the  first  sight  of  the  little  fellow  thus  insolently  issuing 
his  orders  might  have  inspired  laughter,  his  fierce  look,  his 
flashing  eye,  his  revolver  in  hand,  and  his  coat  Liazing  with 
orders,  speedily  overcame  such  a  sentiment,  and  the  dis- 
orderly rabble  seemed  actually  stunned  into  deference 
before    him. 

"What!  "  cried  he,  "are  you  deserters?  Is  it  with  an 
enemy  in  front  that  I  find  you  here?  Is  it  thus  that  you 
show  these  civilians  what  stuff  soldiers  are  made  of?" 
There  was  not  a  degrading  epithet,  not  a  word  of  infamous 
reproach,  he  did  not  hurl  at  them.  They  were  Vili!  Bir- 
banti!  Ladri!  Malandrini!  Codardi!  They  had  dishonored 
their  fathers  and  mothers,  and  wives  and  sweethearts.  They 
had  degraded  the  honor  of  the  soldier,  and  the  Virgin  herself 
was  ashamed  of  them.  "Who  laughs  there?  Let  him  come 
out  to  the  front  and  laugh  here ! "  cried  he.  And  now, 
though  a  low  murmur  little  indicative  of  mirth  ran  through 
the  crowd,  strange  to  say,  the  men  began  to  slink  away,  at 
first  one  by  one,  then  in  groups  and  parties,  so  that  in  very 
few  minutes  the  piazza  was  deserted,  save  b}^  a  few  of  the 
townsfolk,  who  stood  there  half  terrified,  half  fascinated, 
by  the  daring  insolence  of  this  diminutive  hero. 

Though  his  passion  seemed  almost  choking  him,  he  went 
on  with  a  wonderful  fluency  to  abuse  the  whole  nation. 
They  were  brigands  for  three  centuries,  and  brigands  they 
would  be  for  thirty  more,  if  Providence  would  not  send  an 
earthquake  to  swallow  them  up,  and  rid  the  world  of  such 
rascals.  He  scoffed  at  them,  he  jeered  them ;  he  told  them 
that  the  few  Sicilians  that  followed  Garibaldi  would  make 
slaves  of  the  whole  kingdom,  taking  from  the  degenerate 
cowards  of  Calabria  wives,  daughters,  home,  and  house- 
holds; and  it  was  only  when  the  last  straggler  shuflfled  slowly 


AMONGST  THE   GARIBALDIANS.  499 

away,  and  be  stood  alone  in  the  square,  that  he  would  con- 
sent to  re-enter  the  carriage  and  pursue  his  journey. 

"I'll  know  every  face  amongst  them  if  I  meet  them 
again,"  said  he  to  Skeffy,  "and  it  will  be  an  evil  day  for  the 
scoundrels  when  that  time  comes."  His  wrath  continued 
during  the  entire  stage,  and  never  flagged  in  its  violence  till 
they  reached  a  cluster  of  poor  cabins,  around  which  a  guard 
of  soldiers  was  stationed.  Here  they  were  refused  a  further 
passage,  since  at  Maurc,  three  miles  further  on,  Melani, 
with  a  force  of  three  thousand  men  and  some  guns,  held 
the  pass  against  the  Garibaldians.  M'Caskey  was  not 
long  in  explaining  who  he  was,  nor,  indeed,  very  modest  in 
proclaiming  his  personal  importance;  and  the  subaltern, 
with  every  show  of  deference  to  such  greatness,  detached  a 
corporal  of  his  guard  to  accompany  them  to  the  General's 
quarters.  The  General  was  asleep  when  they  reached 
Mauro;  he  had  been,  they  said,  "up  all  night,"  but  they 
did  not  add  it  was  in  the  celebration  of  an  orgie,  in  which 
the  festivities  were  more  classic  than  correct.  M'Caskey, 
however,  learned  that  at  about  five  miles  in  front,  Gari- 
baldi's advanced  guard  was  posted,  and  that  Garibaldi  him- 
self had  ridden  up  and  reconnoitred  their  position  on  the 
evening  before. 

"AVe  expect  to  be  attacked  by  noon,"  said  the  officer,  in 
a  tone  the  very  reverse  of  hopeful  or  encouraging. 

"You  can  hold  this  pass  against  twenty  thousand,"  said 
M'Caskey. 

"We  shall  not  try,"  said  the  other.  "Why  should  we  be 
the  only  men  to  get  cut  to  pieces  ?  " 

The  ineffable  scorn  of  the  little  Colonel  as  he  turned  away 
was  not  lost  on  the  other;  but  he  made  no  reply  to  it,  and 
retired.  "We  are  to  have  an  escort  as  far  as  Ravello;  after 
that  we  are  to  take  care  of  ourselves;  and  I  own  to  you  I 
think  we  shall  be  all  the  safer  when  we  get  out  of  the  reach 
of  his  Majesty's  defenders." 

"There,"  cried  the  Sergeant  who  acted  as  their  guard,  — 
"there,  on  that  rock  yonder,  are  the  Reds.  I'll  go  no 
further." 

And  as  they  looked  they  saw  a  small  group  of  red-shirted 
fellows  lying  or  lounging  on  a  small  cliff  which  rose  abruptly 


500  TONY  BUTLER. 

over  a  stream  crossed  by  a  wooden  bridge.  Attaching  bis 
handkerchief  to  his  walking-stick,  M'Caskey  stepped  out 
boldly.  Skeffy  followed;  they  reached  the  bridge,  and 
crossed  it,  and  stood  within  the  lines  of  the  Garibaldians. 
A  very  young,  almost  boyish-looking,  officer  met  them,  heard 
their  story,  and  with  much  courtesy  told  them  that  he  would 
send  one  of  his  men  to  conduct  them  to  head-quarters.  "You 
will  not  find  the  General  there,"  said  he,  smiling;  "he's 
gone  on  in  that  direction;"  and  he  pointed,  as  he  spoke, 
towards  Naples. 

Skeff  asked  eagerly  if  the  young  officer  had  ever  heard  of 
Tony  Butler,  and  described  with  ardor  the  handsome  face 
and  figure  of  his  friend.  The  other  believed  he  had  seen 
him.  There  was,  he  knew,  a  glovane  Irlandese  who  was 
wounded  at  Melazzo,  and,  if  he  was  not  mistaken,  wounded 
again  about  four  days  back  at  Lauria.  "All  the  wounded 
are  at  Salerno,  however,"  said  he,  carelessly,  "and  you  are 
sure  to  find  him  amonost  them." 


CHAPTER   LVI. 

THE    HOSPITAL    AT    CAYA. 

Had  Skeff  been  in  any  mood  for  mirth,  he  might  have  en- 
joyed as  rich  drollery  the  almost  inconceivable  impertinence 
of  his  companion,  who  scrutinized  everything,  and  freely 
distributed  his  comments  around  him,  totally  regardless  that 
he  stood  in  the  camp  of  the  enemy,  and  actually  surrounded 
by  men  whose  extreme  obedience  to  discipline  could  scarcely 
be  relied  on. 

"Uniformity  is  certainly  not  studied  here,"  cried  M'Cas- 
key,  as  he  stared  at  a  guard  about  to  be  detached  on  some 
duty;  *' three  fellows  have  gray  trousers;  two,  blue,  one  a 
sort  of  canvas  petticoat ;  and  I  see  only  one  real  coat  in  the 
party." 

A  little  further  on  he  saw  a  group  of  about  a  dozen  lying 
on  the  grass  smoking,  with  their  arms  in  disorderly  fashion 
about,  and  he  exclaimed,  "  How  I  'd  like  to  surprise  those 
rascals,  and  make  a  swoop  down  here  with  two  or  three 
companies  of  Cacciatori!  Look  at  their  muskets;  there 
has  n't  been  one  of  them  cleaned  for  a  month. 

*'Here  they  are  at  a  meal  of  some  sort.  Well,  men  won't 
fight  on  beans  and  olive  oil.  My  Irish  fellows  are  the  only 
devils  can  stand  up  on  roots." 

These  comments  were  all  delivered  in  Italian,  and  listened 
to  with  a  sort  of  bewildered  astonishment,  as  though  the 
man  who  spoke  them  must  possess  some  especial  and  pecu- 
liar privilege  to  enable  him  to  indulge  so  much  candor. 

"That's  not  a  knapsack,"  said  he,  kicking  a  soldier's 
pack  that  he  saw  on  the  grass;  "that's  more  like  a  trav- 
elling tinker's  bundle.  Open  it,  and  let's  see  the  inside!  " 
cried  he  to  the  owner,  who,  awed  by  the  tone  of  command, 
immediately  obeyed ;  and  M'Caskey  ridiculed  the  shreds  and 


502   •  TONY  BUTLER. 

patches  of  raiment,  the  tattered  fragments  of  worn  apparel, 
in  which  fragments  of  cheese  and  parcels  of  tobacco  were 
rolled  up.  "Why,  the  fellows  have  not  even  risen  to  the 
dignity  of  pillage,"  said  he.  "I  was  sure  we  should  have 
found  some  saintly  ornament  or  a  piece  of  the  Virgin's 
petticoat  among  their  wares." 

With  all  this  freedom,  carried  to  the  extreme  of  imperti- 
nence, none  molested,  none  ever  questioned  them;  and  as 
the  guide  had  accidentally  chanced  upon  some  old  friends 
by  the  way,  he  told  M'Caskey  that  they  had  no  further  need 
of  him;  that  the  road  lay  straight  before  them,  and  that  they 
would  reach  Cava  in  less  than  an  hour. 

At  Cava  they  found  the  same  indifference.  They  learned 
that  Garibaldi  had  not  come  up,  though  some  said  he  had 
passed  on  with  a  few  followers  to  Naples,  and  others  main- 
tained that  he  had  sent  to  the  King  of  Naples  to  meet  him 
at  Salerno  to  show  him  the  inutility  of  all  resistance,  and 
offer  him  a  safe-conduct  out  of  the  kingdom.  Leaving 
M'Caskey  in  the  midst  of  these  talkers,  and  not,  perhaps, 
without  some  uncharitable  wish  that  the  gallant  Colonel's 
bad  tongue  would  involve  him  in  serious  trouble,  Skeffy 
slipped  away  to  inquire  after  Tony. 

Every  one  seemed  to  know  that  there  was  a  brave  Irlan- 
dese^ — a  daring  fellow  who  had  shown  himself  in  the 
thick  of  every  fight;  but  the  discrepant  accounts  of  his  per- 
sonal appearance  and  looks  were  most  confusing.  Ton}^ 
was  fair-haired,  and  yet  most  of  the  descriptions  represented 
a  dark  man,  with  a  bushy  black  beard  and  moustache.  At 
all  events,  he  was  lying  wounded  at  the  convent  of  the  Cap- 
puccini,  on  a  hill  about  a  mile  from  the  town;  and  Father 
Pantaleo  —  Garibaldi's  Vicar,  as  he  was  called  —  offered  his 
services  to  show  him  the  way.  The  Frate  —  a  talkative  little 
fellow,  with  a  fringe  of  curly  dark-brown  hair  around  a 
polished  white  head  —  talked  away,  as  they  went,  about  the 
war,  and  Garibaldi,  and  the  grand  future  that  lay  before 
Italy,  when  the  tyranny  of  the  Pope  should  be  overthrown, 
and  the  Church  made  as  free  —  and,  indeed,  he  almost  said 
as  easy  —  as  any  jovial  Christian  could  desire. 

Skeffy,  by  degrees,  drew  him  to  the  subject  nearest  his 
own  heart  at  the  moment,  and  asked  about  the  wounded  in 


THE   HOSPITAL   AT   CAVA.  603 

hospital.  The  Frate  declared  that  there  was  nothing  very 
serious  the  matter  with  any  of  them.  He  was  an  opti- 
mist. Some  died,  some  suffered  amputations,  some  were 
torn  by  shells  or  grape-shot.  But  what  did  it  signify? 
as  he  said.  It  was  a  great  cause  they  were  fighting  for, 
and  they  all  agreed  it  was  a  pleasure  to  shed  one's  blood 
for  Italy.  ''As  for  the  life  up  there,"  said  he,  pointing  to 
the  convent,  "it  is  a  vita  da  Santi^ — the  'life  of  saints 
themselves. '  " 

"Do  you  know  my  friend  Tony  the  Irlandese?"  asked 
Skeff,  eagerly. 

"If  I  know  him!  Per  Bacco !  I  think  I  know  him.  I 
was  with  him  when  he  had  his  leg  taken  off.'' 

Skeff' s  heart  sickened  at  this  terrible  news,  and  he  could 
barely  steady  himself  by  catching  the  Fra's  arm.  "Oh,  my 
poor  dear  Tony,"  cried  he,  as  the  tears  ran  down  his  face, 
—  "my  poor  fellow!  " 

"Why  did  you  pity  him?  Garibaldi  gave  him  his  own 
sword,  and  made  him  an  officer  on  the  day  of  the  battle.  It 
was  up  at  Calanzaro,  so  that  he  's  nearly  well  now." 

Skeff  poured  in  innumerable  questions, —  how  the  mis- 
chance occurred,  and  w^here;  how  he  bore  up  under  the 
dreadful  operation;  in  what  state  he  then  was;  if  able  to 
move  about,  and  how?  And  as  the  Fra  was  one  of  those 
who  never  confessed  himself  unable  to  answer  anything, 
the  details  he  obtained  were  certainly  of  the  fullest  and 
most  circumstantial. 

"He's  always  singing;  that's  how  he  passes  his  time," 
said  the  Frate. 

"Singing!  how  strange!  I  never  knew  him  to  sing.  I 
never  heard  him  even  hum  a  tune." 

"You  '11  hear  him  now,  then.  The  fellows  about  curse  at 
him  half  the  day  to  be  silent,  but  he  does  n't  mind  them,  but 
sings  away.  The  only  quiet  moment  he  gives  them  is 
while  he's  smoking." 

"Ah,  yes!  he  loves  smoking." 

"There  —  stop.  Listen.  Do  you  hear  him?  he's  at  it 
now."  Skeff  halted,  and  could  hear  the  sound  of  a  full  deep 
voice,  from  a  window  overhead,  in  one  of  those  prolonged 
and  melancholy  cadences  which  Irish  airs  abound  in. 


504  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Wherever  he  got  such  doleful  music  I  can't  tell,  but  he 
has  a  dozen  chants  like  that." 

Though  Skeff  could  not  distinguish  the  sounds,  nor  recog- 
nize the  voice  of  his  friend,  the  thought  that  it  was  poor 
Tony  who  was  there  singing  in  his  solitude,  maimed  and 
suffering,  without  one  near  to  comfort  him,  so  overwhelmed 
him  that  he  staggered  towards  a  bench,  and  sat  down  sick 
and  faint. 

"  Go  up  and  say  that  a  friend,  a  dear  friend,  has  come 
from  ISaples  to  see  him;  and  if  he  is  not  too  nervous  or  too 
much  agitated,  tell  him  my  name;  here  it  is."  The  friar 
took  the  card  and  hurried  forward  on  his  mission.  In  less 
time  than  Skeff  thought  it  possible  for  him  to  have  arrived, 
Pantaleo  called  out  from  the  window,  "Come  along;  he  is 
quite  ready  to  see  you,  though  he  doesn't  remember  3'ou." 

Skeff  fell  back  upon  the  seat  at  the  last  words.  ''Not 
remember  me!  my  poor  Tony, — my  poor,  poor  fellow, — 
how  changed  and  shattered  you  must  be,  to  have  forgotten 
me!  "  With  a  great  effort  he  rallied,  entered  the  gate,  and 
mounted  the  stairs,  —  slowly,  indeed,  and  like  one  who 
dreaded  the  scene  that  lay  before  him.  Pantaleo  met  him 
at  the  top,  and,  seeing  his  agitation,  gave  him  his  arm  for 
support.  "Don't  be  nervous,"  said  he,  "your  friend  is 
doing  capitally;  he  is  out  on  the  terrace  in  an  armchair, 
and  looks  as  jolly  as  a  cardinal." 

Summoning  all  his  courage,  Skeff  walked  bravely  for- 
wards, passed  down  the  long  aisle,  crowded  with  sick  and 
wounded  on  either  side,  and  passed  out  upon  a  balcony  at 
the  end,  where,  with  his  back  towards  him,  a  man  sat  look- 
ing out  over  the  landscape. 

"Tony,  Tony!"  said  Skeffy,  coming  close.  The  man 
turned  his  head,  and  Skeff  saw  a  massive-looking  face,  all 
covered  with  black  hair,  and  a  forehead  marked  by  a  sabre 
cut.  "This  is  not  my  friend.  This  is  not  Tony!"  cried 
he,  in  disappointment. 
^  "No,  sir;  I'm  Rory  Quin,  the  man  that  was  with  him," 

said  the  wounded  man,  submissively. 

"And  where  is  he  himself?     Where  is  Tony?"  cried  he. 
j  "In  the  little  room  beyond,  sir.     They  put  him  there  when 

he  began  to  rave;  but  he  's  better  now,  and  quite  sensible." 


THE   HOSPITAL  AT  CAVA.  505 

"Take  me  to  him  at  once;  let  me  see  him,"  said  Skeff, 
whose  impatience  had  now  mastered  all  prudence. 

The  moment  after,  Skeff  found  himself  in  a  small  cham- 
ber, with  a  single  bed  in  it,  beside  which  a  Sister  of  Char- 
ity was  seated,  busily  employed  laying  cloths  wet  with  iced 
water  on  the  sick  man's  head.  One  glance  showed  that 
it  was  Tony.  The  eyes  were  closed,  and  the  face  thinner, 
and  the  lips  dry;  but  there  was  a  hardy  manhood  in  the 
countenance,  sick  and  suffering  as  he  was,  that  told  what 
qualities  a  life  of  hardship  and  peril  had  called  into 
activity.  The  Sister  motioned  to  Skeff  to  sit  down,  but  not 
to  speak.  "He's  not  sleeping,"  said  she,  softly,  "only 
dozing." 

"Is  he  in  pain?"  asked  Skeffy. 

"No;  I  have  no  pain,"  said  Tony,  faintly. 

Skeff  bent  down  to  whisper  some  words  close  to  his  ear, 
when  he  heard  a  step  behind.  He  looked  up  and  saw  it  was 
M'Caskey,  who  had  followed  him.  "I  came  here,  sir,"  said 
the  Colonel,  haughtily,  "to  express  my  astonishment  at  your 
unceremonious  departure,  and  also  to  say  that  I  shall  now 
hold  myself  as  free  of  all  further  engagement  towards  you." 

"Hush,  be  quiet,"  said  Skeff,  with  a  gesture  of  caution. 

"Is  that  your  friend?"  asked  M'Caskey,  with  a  smile. 

Tony  slowly  opened  his  eyes  at  these  words,  looking  at 
the  speaker,  turning  his  gaze  then  on  Skeff,  gave  a  weak, 
sickly  smile,  and  then  in  a  faint,  scarce  audible  voice,  said, 
"So  he  is  your  godfather,  after  all." 

Skeff's  heart  grew  full  to  bursting,  and  for  a  moment  or 
two  he  could  not  speak. 

"There  —  there,  no  more,"  whispered  the  Sister;  and  she 
motioned  them  both  to  withdraw.  Skeff  arose  at  once,  and 
slipped  noiselessly  away;  but  the  Colonel  stepped  boldly 
along,  regardless  of  everything  and  every  one. 

"He  's  wandering  in  his  mind,"  said  M'Caskey,  in  a  loud, 
unfeeling  tone. 

"By  all  that 's  holy,  there  's  the  scoundrel  I  'm  dying  to 
get  at,"  screamed  Rory,  as  the  voice  caught  his  ear.  "Give 
me  that  crutch;  let  me  have  one  lick  at  him,  for  the  love  of 
Mary." 

"They're  all  mad  here,  that's  plain,"  said  M'Caskey, 


506  TONY  BUTLER. 

turning  away  with  a  contemptuous  air.  "Sir,"  added  he, 
turning  towards  Skeff ,  "  I  have  the  honor  to  salute  you ; " 
and  with  a  magnificent  bow  he  withdrew,  while  Rory,  in  a 
voice  of  wildest  passion  and  invective,  called  down  innu- 
merable curses  on  his  head,  and  inveighed  even  against  the 
bystanders  for  not  securing  the  "greatest  villain  in  Europe." 
*'I  shall  want  to  send  a  letter  to  Naples,"  cried  out  Skeff 
to  the  Colonel;  "I  mean  to  remain  here;"  but  M'Caskey 
never  deigned  to  notice  his  words,  but  walked  proudly  down 
the  stairs,  and  went  his  way. 


CHAPTER   LYII. 

AT    TONY'S    bedside. 

My  story  draws  to  a  close,  and  I  have  not  space  to  tell  how 
Skeft"  watched  beside  his  friend,  rarely  quitting  him,  and  show- 
ing in  a  hundred  ways  the  resources  of  a  kind  and  thoughtful 
nature.  Tony  had  been  severely  wounded  ;  a  sabre-cut  had 
severed  his  scalp,  and  he  had  been  shot  through  the  shoul- 
der ;  but  all  apprehension  of  evil  consequences  was  now 
over,  and  he  was  able  to  listen  to  Skeff's  wondrous  tidings, 
and  hear  all  the  details  of  his  accession  to  wealth  and  for- 
tune. His  mother  —  how  she  would  rejoice  at  it !  how 
happy  it  would  make  her !  —  not  for  her  own  sake,  but  for 
his ;  how  it  would  seem  to  repay  to  her  all  she  had  suffered 
from  the  haughty  estrangement  of  Sir  Omerod,  and  how 
proud  she  would  be  at  the  recognition,  late  though  it  came  ! 
These  were  Tony's  thoughts  ;  and  very  often,  when  Skeff 
imagined  him  to  be  following  the  details  of  his  property,  and 
listening  with  eagerness  to  the  description  of  what  he  owned, 
Tony  was  far  away  in  thought  at  the  cottage  beside  the 
Causewa3%  and  longing  ardentty  when  he  should  sit  at  the 
window  with  his  mother  at  his  side  planning  out  some  future 
in  which  they  were  to  be  no  more  separated. 

There  was  no  elation  at  his  sudden  fortune,  nor  any  of 
that  anticipation  of  indulgence  which  Skeff  himself  would 
have  felt,  and  which  he  indeed  suggested.  No.  Tony's 
whole  thoughts  so  much  centred  in  his  dear  mother,  that  she 
entered  into  all  his  projects ;  and  there  was  not  a  picture  of 
enjoyment  wherein  she  was  not  a  foreground  figure. 

They  would  keep  the  cottage,  —  that  was  his  first  resolve : 
his  mother  loved  it  dearly ;  it  was  associated  with  years  long 
of  happiness  and  of  trials  too ;  and  trials  can  endear  a  spot 
when  they  are  nobly  borne,  and  the  heart  will  cling  fondly  to 


508  TONY  BUTLER. 

that  which  has  chastened  its  emotions  and  elevated  its  hopes. 
And  then,  Tony  thought,  the}^  might  obtain  that  long  stretch 
of  land  that  lay  along  the  shore,  with  the  little  nook  where 
the  boats  lay  at  anchor,  and  where  he  would  have  his  yacht, 
*'  I  suppose,"  said  he,  "  Sir  Arthur  Lyle  would  have  no 
objection  to  my  being  so  near  a  neighbor  ?  " 

"Of  course  not;  but  we  can  soon  settle  that  point,  for 
they  are  all  here." 

''Here?" 

"  At  Naples,  I  mean." 

"How  was  it  that  you  never  told  me  that?"  he  asked 
sharply. 

Skeff  fidgeted  —  bit  his  cigar  —  threw  itnaway;  and  with 
more  confusion  than  became  so  distinguished  a  diplomatist, 
stammered  out,  "  I  have  had  so  much  to  tell  you —  such  lots 
of  news;"  and  then  with  an  altered^ voice  he  added,  "Be- 
sides, old  fellow,  the  doctor  warned  me  not  to  ssiy  anything 
that  might  agitate  you  ;  and  I  thought  —  that  is,  I  used  to 
think  —  there  was  something  in  that  quarter,  eh?" 

Tony  grew  pale,  but  made  no  answer. 

"  I  know  she  likes  you,  Tony,"  said  Skeff,  taking  his 
hand  and  pressing  it.  ' '  Bella,  who  is  engaged  to  me  —  I 
forget  if  I  told  you  that  —  " 

"  No,  you  never  told  me  !  " 

"Well,  Bella  and  I  are  to  be  married  immediately,  — that 
is,  as  soon  as  I  can  get  back  to  England.  I  have  asked  for 
leave  already;  they've  refused  me  twice.  It's  all  very  fine 
saying  to  me  that  I  ought  to  know  that  in  the  present  diffi- 
culties of  Italy  no  man  could  replace  m.e  at  this  Court.  My 
answer  to  that  is :  Skeff  Damer  has  other  stuff  in  him  as 
well  as  ambition.  He  has  a  heart  just  as  much  as  a  head. 
Nor  am  I  to  go  on  passing  my  life  saving  this  d^masty.  The 
Bourbons  are  not  so  much  to  me  as  my  own  happiness,  eh?" 

"  I  suppose  not,"  said  Tony,  dryly. 

"  You  'd  have  done  the  same,  would  n't  you?  " 

"I  can't  tell.  I  cannot  even  imagine  myself  filling  any 
station  of  responsibility  or  importance." 

"  My  reply  was  brief :  Leave  for  six  months'  time,  to 
recruit  an  over-taxed  frame  and  over- wrought  intellect; 
time  also  for  them  to  look  out  what  to  offer  me,  for  I  '11  not 


AT  TONY'S  BEDSIDE.  509 

go  to  Mexico,  nor  to  Rio ;  neither  will  I  take  Washington, 
nor  any  of  the  Northern  Courts.  Dearest  Bella  must  have 
climate,  and  I  myself  must  have  congenial  society ;  and  so  I 
said,  not  in  such  terms,  but  in  meaning,  Skeff  Darner  is 
only  yours  at  his  price.  Let  them  refuse  me,  —  let  me  see 
them  even  hesitate,  and  I  give  my  word  of  honor,  I  'm 
capable  of  abandoning  public  life  altogether,  and  retiring 
into  my  woods  at  Tiluey,  leaving  the  whole  thing  at  sixes 
and  sevens." 

Now,  though  Tony  neither  knew  what  the  "  whole  thing'* 
meant,  nor  the  dire  consequences  to  which  his  friend's  anger 
might  have  consigned  it,  he  muttered  something  that  sounded 
like  a  hope  that  he  would  not  leave  Europe  to  shift  for  her- 
self at  such  a  moment. 

"Let  them  not  drive  me  to  it,  that's  all,"  said  he, 
haughtily ;  and  he  arose  and  walked  up  and  down  with  an 
air  of  defiance.  "The  Lyles  do  not  see  this,  —  Lady  Lyle 
especially.  She  wants  a  peerage  for  her  daughter,  but  am- 
bition is  not  alwa^'s  scrupulous." 

"  I  always  liked  her  the  least  of  them,"  muttered  Tony, 
who  never  could  forget  the  sharp  lesson  she  administered  to 
him. 

"  She  '11  make  herself  more  agreeable  to  you  now,  Master 
Tony,"  said  Skeff,  with  a  dry  laugh. 

"  And  why  so?  " 

"  Can't  you  guess?" 

"No." 

"  On  3^our  word?  ". 

"  On  my  word,  I  cannot." 

"Don't  you  think  Mr.  Butler  of  something  or  other  in 
Herefordshire  is  another  guess  man  from  Tony  Butler  of 
nowhere  in  particular?" 

"  Ah !  I  forgot  my  change  of  fortune :  but  if  I  had  ever 
remembered  it,  I  'd  never  have  thought  so  meanly  of  Jier." 

"That 'sail  rot  and  nonsense.  There's  no  meanness  in 
a  woman  wanting  to  marry  her  daughter  well,  any  more  than 
in  a  man  trying  to  get  a  colonelcy  or  a  legation  for  his  son. 
You  were  no  match  for  Alice  Trafford  three  months  ago. 
Now  both  she  and  her  mother  will  think  differently  of  your 
pretensions." 


510  TONY  BUTLER. 

"  Say  what  you  like  of  the  mother,  but  you  shall  not  im- 
pute such  motives  to  Alice." 

''  Doo't  you  get  red  in  the  face  and  look  like  a  tiger, 
young  man,  or  I  '11  take  my  leave  and  send  that  old  damsel 
here  with  the  ice-pail  to  you." 

"  It  was  the  very  thing  I  liked  in  you,"  muttered  Tony, 
"that  you  never  did  impute  mean  motives  to  women." 

"  My  poor  Tony !  the  fellow  who  has  seen  life  as  I  have, 
who  knows  the  thing  in  its  most  minute  anatomy,  comes  out 
of  the  investigation  infernally  case-hardened ;  he  can't  help 
it.  I  love  Alice.  Indeed,  if  I  had  not  seen  Bella,  I  think 
I  should  have  married  Alice.  There,  you  are  getting  turkey- 
cock  again.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else.  What  the  deuce 
was  it  I  wanted  to  ask  you?  —  something  about  that  great 
Irish  monster  in  the  next  room,  the  fellow  that  sings  all 
day  :  where  did  you  pick  him  up  ?  " 

Tony  made  no  reply,  but  lay  with  his  hand  over  his  e3'es, 
while  Skeff  went  on  rambling  over  the  odds  and  ends  he  had 
picked  up  in  the  course  of  Rory  Quin's  story,  and  the  devoted 
love  he  bore  to  Tony  himself.  ''By  the  way,  they  say  that 
it  was  for  you  Garibaldi  intended  the  promotion  to  the  rank 
of  officer,  but  that  you  managed  to  pass  it  to  this  fellow, 
who  could  n't  sign  his  name  when  they  asked  him  for  it." 

"If  he  couldn't  write,  he  has  left  his  mark  on  some  of 
the  Neapolitans!"  said  Tony,  fiercely;  "and  as  for  the 
advancement,  he  deserved  it  far  more  than  I  did." 

"  It  was  a  lucky  thing  for  that  aide-de-camp  of  Filangieri 
who  accompanied  me  here,  that  your  friend  Rory  had  n't  got 
two  legs,  for  he  wanted  to  brain  him  with  his  crutch.  Both 
of  3'ou  had  an  antipathy  to  him,  and  indeed  I  own  to  concur- 
ring in  the  sentiment.  My  godfather  3'ou  called  him  !  "  said 
he,   laughing. 

"  I  wish  he  had  come  a  little  closer  to  my  bedside,  that's 
all,"  muttered  Tony;  and  SkefT  saw  b}"  the  expression  of  his 
features  that  he  was  once  more  unfortunate  in  his  attempt 
to  hit  upon  an  unexciting  theme. 

"Alice  knew  of  your  journey  here,  I  think  you  said?" 
whispered  Ton}^,   faintly. 

"  Yes.  I  sent  them  a  few  lines  to  say  I  was  setting  out 
to  find  3'ou." 


AT  TONY'S  BEDSIDE.  511 

*'How  soon  could  I  get  to  Naples?  Do  you  think  they 
would  let  me  move  to-morrow?" 

"  I  have  asked  that  question  already.  The  doctor  says 
in  a  week ;  and  I  must  hasten  away  to-night,  —  there 's  no 
saying  what  confusion  my  absence  will  occasion.  I  mean  to 
be  back  here  by  Thursday  to  fetch  you." 

"Good  fellow!  Remember,  though,"  added  he,  after  a 
moment,  "  we  must  take  Rory.     I  can't  leave  Rory  here." 

Skeff  looked  gravely. 

"He  carried  me  when  I  was  wounded  out  of  the  fire  at 
Melazzo,  and  I  am  not  going  to  desert  him  now." 

"  Strange  situation  for  her  Majesty's  Charge  d' Affaires," 
said  Skeff, —  "giving  protection  to  the  wounded  of  the  rebel 
army." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  of  rebels.  "We  are  as  legitimate  as  the 
fellows  we  were  fighting  against.  It  was  a  good  stand-up 
fight,  too,  —  man  to  man,  some  of  it ;  and  if  it  was  n't  that 
my  head  reels  so  when  I  sit  or  stand  up,  I  'd  like  to  be  at  it 
again." 

"  It  is  a  fine  bull- dog,  —  just  a  bull-dog,"  said  Skeff,  pat- 
ting him  on  the  head,  while  in  the  compassionate  pity  of  his 
voice  he  showed  how  humbly  he  ranked  the  qualities  he 
ascribed  to  him.  "Ah!  now  I  remember  what  it  was  I 
wished  to  ask  you  (it  escaped  me  till  this  moment)  :  who  is 
the  creature  that  calls  himself  Sam  M'Gruder?" 

"  As  good  a  fellow  as  ever  stepped,  and  a  true  friend  of 
mine.     What  of  him?  " 

"Don't  look  as  if  you  would  tear  me  in  pieces,  and 
scatter  the  fragments  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven.  Sir, 
I'll  not  stand  it, — none  of  your  buccaneering  savageries 
to  m«  !  " 

Tony  laughed,  and  laughed  heartily  at  the  air  of  offended 
dignity  of  the  other;  and  Skeff  was  himself  disposed  at  last 
to  smile  at  his  own  anger.  "That's  the  crying  sin  of  yo2ir 
nature,  Tony,"  said  he.  "It  is  the  one  defect  that  spoils  a 
really  fine  fellow.  I  tell  you  frankly  about  it,  because  I  'm 
your  friend;  and  if  you  don't  curb  it,  you  '11  never  be  any- 
thing, —  never !  never !  " 

"But  what  is  this  fault?  you  have  forgotten  to  tell  it." 

"Over  and  over  again  have  I  told  it.      It  is  your  stupid 


512  TONY  BUTLER. 

animal  confidence  in  your  great  hulking  form:  your  coarse 
reliauee  on  your  massive  shoulders,  —  a  degenerate  notion 
that  muscle  means  manhood.  It  is  here,  sir,  —  here ;  "  and 
Skeff  touched  his  forehead  with  the  tip  of  his  finger;  "here 
lies  the  godlike  attribute.  And  until  you  come  to  feel  that, 
you  never  will  have  arrived  at  the  real  dignity  of  a  gi'eat 
creature." 

"Well,  if  I  be  the  friend  of  one,  Skeffy,  it  will  satisfy  all 
my  ambition,"  said  he,  grasping  his  hand  warmly;  "and 
flow  what  of  M'Gruder?  How  did  you  come  to  know  of 
him?" 

"Officially, —  officially,  of  course.  Skeffiugton  Damer  and 
Sam  M'Gruder  might  revolve  in  ether  for  centuries  and  their 
orbits  never  cross!  but  it  happened  this  honest  fellow  had 
gone  off  in  search  of  you  into  Sicily;  and  with  that  blessed 
propensity  for  blundering  the  British  subject  ia  gifted  with, 
had  managed  to  offend  the  authorities  and  get  imprisoned. 
Of  course  he  appealed  to  me.  They  all  appeal  to  me!  but 
at  the  moment  unhappily  for  him,  the  King  was  appealing 
to  ??i«e,  and  Cavour  was  appealing  to  me^  and  so  was  the 
Emperor;  and,  I  may  mention  in  confidence,  so  was  Gari- 
baldi!—  not  in  person,  but  through  a  friend.  I  know  these 
things  must  be.  Whenever  a  fellow  has  a  head  on  his 
shoulders  in  this  world,  the  other  fellows  who  have  no 
heads  find  it  out  and  work  him.  Ay,  sir,  work  him! 
That 's  why  I  have  said  over  and  over  again  the  stupid  dogs 
have  the  best  of  it.  I  declare  to  you,  on  my  honor,  Tony, 
there  are  days  I  'd  rather  be  you  than  be  Skeff  Damer!  " 

Tony  shook  his  head. 

"I  know  it  sounds  absurd,  but  I  pledge  you  my  sacred 
word  of  honor  I  have  felt  it." 

"And  M'Gruder?"  asked  Tony. 

"M'Gruder,  sir,  I  liberated!  I  said.  Free  him!  and,  like 
the  fellow  in  Curran's  celebrated  passage,  his  chains  fell  to 
the  ground,  and  he  stood  forward,  not  a  bit  grateful,  —  far 
from  it,  —  but  a  devilish  crusty  Scotchman,  telling  me  what 
a  complaint  he  'd  lodge  against  me  as  soon  as  he  arrived  in 
England." 

"No,  no;  he  's  not  the  fellow  to  do  that." 

"If   he  did,   sir,   it  would  crush  him!     The  Emperor  of 


AT  TONY'S  BEDSIDE.  513 

Russia  could  not  prefer  a  complaint  against  Skeff  Darner, 
and  feel  the  better  of  it !  " 

"He's  a  true-hearted,  fine  fellow,"  said  Tony. 

"With  all  my  heart  I  concede  to  him  all  the  rough  virtues 
you  may  desire  to  endow  him  with;  but  please  to  bear  in 
mind,  Master  Tony,  that  a  man  of  your  station  and  youi 
fortune  cannot  afford  such  intimacies  as  your  friend  Rory 
here  and  this  M'Gruder  creature." 

"Then  I  was  a  richer  man  when  I  had  nothing,  for  I  could 
afford  it  then,"  said  Tony,  sturdily;  "and  I  tell  you  more, 
Skeffy,  —  I  mean  to  afford  it  still.  There  is  no  fellow 
living  I  love  better  —  no,  nor  as  well  —  as  I  love  yourself; 
but  even  for  your  love  I  '11  not  give  up  the  fine-hearted 
fellows  who  were  true  to  me  in  my  daj's  of  hardship,  shared 
with  me  what  they  had,  and  gave  me  —  what  was  better  to 
me  —  their  loving-kindness  and  sympathy." 

"You'd  bring  down  the  house  if  you  said  that  in  the 
Adelphi,  Tony." 

"It 's  well  for  you  that  I  can't  get  out  of  bed,"  said  Tony, 
with  a  grim  laugh. 

"There  it  is  again;  another  appeal  to  the  brute  man  and 
the  man  brute!  Well,  I  '11  go  to  dinner,  and  I  '11  tell  the  fair 
Sister  to  prepare  your  barley-water,  and  administer  it  in  a 
more  diluted  form  than  heretofore;"  and,  adjusting  his  hat 
so  as  to  display  a  favorite  lock  to  the  best  advantage,  and 
drawing  on  his  gloves  in  leisurely  fashion,  Skeff  Damer 
walked  proudly  away,  bestowing  little  benevolent  gestures 
on  the  patients  as  he  passed,  and  intimating  by  certain  little 
signs  that  he  had  taken  an  interest  in  their  several  cases, 
and  saying,  by  a  sweet  smile,  "You  '11  be  the  better  of  this 
visit  of  mine.     You  '11  see,  you  wuU." 


33 


CHAPTER   LVIII. 

THE    SIXTH    OF    SEPTEMBER. 

On  the  evening  of  the  6th  of  September  a  corvette  steamed 
rapidly  out  of  the  Bay  of  Naples,  threading  her  way  devi- 
ously through  the  other  ships  of  war,  unacknowledged  by 
salute,  —  not  even  an  ensign  dipped  as  she  passed. 

"There  goes  the  King  and  the  monarchy,"  said  Skefif,  as 
he  stood  on  the  balcony  with  the  Lyles,  and  pointed  to  the 
fast-retreating  vessel. 

"I  suppose  the  sooner  we  leave  the  better,"  said  Lady 
Lyle,  whose  interest  in  political  affairs  was  very  inferior  to 
that  she  felt  on  personal  matters. 

"Skeff  says  that  the  '  Talisman '  will  take  us  on  board," 
said  Sir  Arthur. 

''Yes,"  said  Skeff;  "Captain  Paynter  will  be  here  by 
and  by  to  take  your  orders,  and  know  when  he  is  to  send  in 
his  boats  for  you;  and  though  I  feel  assured  my  general 
directions  will  be  carried  out  here,  and  that  no  public  dis- 
turbance will  take  place,  you  will  all  be  safer  under  the 
Union  Jack." 

"And  what  of  Tony  Butler?  When  is  he  to  arrive?  "  asked 
Bella. 

"Tony,"  said  Skeff,  "is  to  arrive  here  to-night.  I  have 
had  a  note  from  his  friend  M' Cruder,  who  has  gone  down 
to  meet  him,  and  is  now  at  Salerno." 

"And  who  is  his  friend  M' Cruder?"  asked  Lady  Lyle, 
superciliously. 

"A  rag-merchant  from  Leghorn,"  said  Skeff;  "but  Tony 
calls  him  an  out-and-out  good  fellow;  and  I  must  say  he 
did  n't  take  five  minutes  to  decide  when  I  told  him  Tony 
was  coming  up  from  Cava,  and  would  be  glad  to  have  his 
company  on  the  road." 


THE   SIXTH   OF   SEPTEMBER.  515 

"These  are,  of  course,  exceptional  times,  when  all  sorts 
of  strange  intimacies  will  be  formed;  but  I  do  hope  that 
Tony  will  see  that  his  altered  circumstances  as  to  fortune 
require  from  him  more  care  in  the  selection  of  his  friends 
than  he  has  hitherto  been  distinguished  for." 

''Don't  trouble  yourself  about  that,  my  dear,"  said  Sir 
Arthur;  "a  man's  fortune  very  soon  impresses  itself  on  all 
he  sa3's  and  does." 

•'I  mistake  him  much,"  said  Bella,  "if  any  wealth  will 
estrange  him  from  one  of  those  he  cared  for  in  his  humbler 
days.     Don't  you  agree  with  me,  Alice?" 

Alice  made  no  reply,  but  continued  to  gaze  at  the  ships 
through  a  glass. 

"The  danger  is  that  he'll  carry  that  feeling  to  excess," 
said  Skeff ;  ''for  he  will  not  alone  hold  to  all  these  people, 
but  he  '11  make  you  and  me  hold  to  them  too." 

"That  would  be  impossible,  perfectly  impossible,"  said 
my  Lady,  with  a  haughty  toss  of  her  head. 

"No,  no;  I  cannot  agree  to  go  that  far,"  chimed  in  Sir 
Arthur. 

"It  strikes  me,"  said  Alice,  quietly,  "we  are  all  of  us 
deciding  a  little  too  hastily  as  to  what  Tony  Butler  will  or 
will  not  do.  Probably  a  very  slight  exercise  of  patience 
would  save  us  some  trouble." 

"Certainly  not,  Alice,  after  what  Mr.  Damer  has  said. 
Tony  would  seem  to  have  thrown  down  a  sort  of  defiance  to 
us  all.  We  must  accept  him  with  his  belongings,  or  do 
without  him." 

"He  shall  have  ??^e  on  his  own  terms,"  said  Skeflfy.  "He 
is  a  noble  savage,  and  I  love  him  with  all  my  heart." 

"And  you  will  know  his  rag  friend?  "  asked  Lady  Lyle. 

"Ay,  that  will  I;  and  an  Irish  creature,  too,  that  he  calls 
Rory,  — a  fellow  of  six  feet  four,  with  a  voice  like  an  en- 
raged bull  and  a  hand  as  wide  as  one  of  these  flags !  " 

"It  is  Damon  and  Pythias  over  again,  I  declare!"  said 
Lady  Lyle.     "Where  did  he  pick  up  his  monster?" 

"They  met  by  chance  in  England,  and,  equally'  b}-  chance, 
came  together  to  Italy,  and  Tony  persuaded  him  to  accom- 
pany him  and  join  Garibaldi.  The  worthy  Irishman,  who 
loved  fighting,  and  was  not  very  particular  as  to  the  cause, 


516  TONY  BUTLER. 

agreed ;  and  though  he  had  originally  come  abroad  to  serve 
in  the  Pope's  army,  some  offence  they  had  given  him  made 
him  desert,  and  he  was  well  pleased  not  to  return  home  with- 
out, as  he  said,  '  batin'  somebody.'  It  was  in  this  way  he 
became  a  Garibaldian.  The  fellow,  it  seems,  fought  like  a 
lion ;  he  has  been  five  times  wounded,  and  was  left  for  dead 
on  the  field;  but  he  bears  a  charm  which  he  knows  will 
always  protect  him." 

"A  charm,  — what  is  the  charm?  " 

"A  medallion  of  the  Pope,  which  he  wears  around  his 
neck,  and  always  kisses  devoutly  before  he  goes  into 
battle." 

"  The  Pope's  image  is  a  strange  emblem  for  a  Garibaldian, 
surely,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  laughing. 

"Master  Rory  thinks  it  will  dignify  any  cause,  and  as  he 
never  knew  what  or  for  whom  he  was  fighting,  this  small  bit 
of  copper  saved  him  a  world  of  trouble  and  casuistry;  and 
so  in  the  name  of  the  Holy  Father  he  has  broken  no  end  of 
Neapolitan  skulls." 

"1  must  say  Mr.  Butler  has  surrounded  himself  with  some 
choice  associates,"  said  Lady  Lyle;  "and  all  this  time  I 
have  been  encouraging  myself  to  believe  that  so  very  young 
a  man  would  have  had  no  connections,  no  social  relations, 
he  could  not  throw  off  without  difficulty." 

"The  world  will  do  all  his  sifting  process  for  him,  if  we 
only  have  patience,"  said  Sir  Arthur;  and,  indeed,  it  is  but 
fair  to  say  that  he  spoke  with  knowledge,  since,  in  his  own 
progress  through  life,  he  had  already  made  the  acquaintance 
of  four  distinct  and  separate  classes  in  society,  and  aban- 
doned each  in  turn  for  that  above  it. 

"Was  he  much  elated,  Mr.  Damer,"  asked  Lady  Lyle, 
"when  he  heard  of  his  good  fortune?" 

"I  think  he  was  at  first;  but  it  made  so  little  impression 
on  him,  that  more  than  once  he  went  on  to  speculate  on  his 
future,  quite  forgetting  that  he  had  become  independent; 
and  then,  when  he  remembered  it,  he  certainly  did  look  very 
happy  and  cheerful." 

"And  what  sort  of  plans  has  he?"  asked  Bella. 

"They're  all  about  his  mother;  everything  is  for  her. 
She  is  to  keep  that  cottage,  and  the  ground  about  it,  and  he 


THE   SIXTH  OF  SEPTEMBER.  617 

is  to  make  a  garden  for  her;  and  it  seems  she  likes  cows, 

—  she  is  to  have  cows.  It 's  a  lucky  chance  that  the  old 
lady  had  n't  a  taste  for  a  plesiosaurus,  or  he  'd  be  offering 
a  prize  for  one  to-morrow." 

"He's  a  dear  good  fellow,  as  he  always  was,"  said 
Bella. 

"The  only  real  change  I  see  in  him,"  said  Skeffy,  "is 
that  now  he  is  never  grumpy, — he  takes  everything  well; 
and  if  crossed  for  a  moment,  he  says,  '  Give  me  a  weed ;  I 
must  smoke  away  that  annoyance.'  " 

"How  sensual!"  said  my  Lady;  but  nobody  heeded  the 
remark. 

At  the  moment,  too,  a  young  midshipman  saluted  Damer 
from  the  street,  and  informed  him  that  the  first  cutter  was 
at  the  jetty  to  take  the  party  off  to  the  "Talisman;"  and 
Captain  Paynter  advised  them  not  to  delay  very  long,  as 
the  night  looked  threatening.  Lady  Lyle  needed  no  stronger 
admonition;  she  declared  that  she  would  go  at  once;  and 
although  the  Captain's  own  gig,  as  an  attention  of  honor, 
was  to  be  in  to  take  her,  she  would  not  wait,  but  set  out 
immediately. 

"You  '11  take  care  of  me,  Skeffy,"  said  Alice,  "for  I  have 
two  letters  to  write,  and  shall  not  be  ready  before  eleven 
o'clock." 

For  a  while  all  was  bustle  and  confusion.  Lady  Lyle 
could  not  make  up  her  mind  whether  she  would  finally  accept 
the  frigate  as  a  refuge  or  come  on  shore  again  the  next  day. 
There  were  perils  by  land  and  by  water,  and  she  weighed 
them  and  discussed  them,  and  turned  fiercely  on  everybody 
who  agreed  with  her,  and  quarrelled  with  all  round.  Sir 
Arthur,  too,  had  his  scruples,  as  he  bethought  him  of  the 
effect  that  would  be  produced  by  the  fact  that  a  man  of  his 
station  and  importance  had  sought  the  protection  of  a  ship 
of  war;  and  he  asked  Skeffy  if  some  sort  of  brief  protest 

—  some  explanation  —  should  not  be  made  in  the  public 
papers,  to  show  that  he  had  taken  the  step  in  compliance 
with  female  fears,  and  not  from  the  dictates  of  his  own  male 
wisdom.  "I  should  be  sorry,  sincerely  sorry,  to  affect  the 
Funds,"  said  he;  and  really,  the  remark  was  considerate. 
As    for   Bella,   she   could   not  bear   being    separated   from 


518  TONY  BUTLER. 

Skeffy;  he  was  so  dariug,  so  impulsive,  as  she  said,  and 
witli  all  this  responsibilit}^  on  him  now,  —  people  coming  to 
him  for  everything,  and  all  asking  what  was  to  be  done,  — • 
he  needed  more  than  ever  support  and  sympathy. 

And  thus  is  it  the  world  goes  on,  as  unreal,  as  fictitious, 
as  visionary  as  anything  there  ever  was  put  on  the  stage 
and  illuminated  by  footlights.  There  was  a  rude  realism 
outside  in  the  street,  however,  that  compensated  for  much  of 
this.  There,  all  was  wildest  fun  and  jollity ;  not  the  com- 
motion of  a  people  in  the  throes  of  a  revolution,  not  the 
highly  wrought  passion  of  an  excited  populace  mad  with 
triumph ;  it  was  the  orgie  of  a  people  who  deemed  the  down- 
fall of  a  hated  government  a  sort  of  carnival  occasion,  and 
felt  that  mummery  and  tomfoolery  were  the  most  appropriate 
expressions  of  delight. 

Through  streets  crowded  with  this  dancing,  singing, 
laughing,  embracing,  and  mimicking  mass,  the  Lyles  made 
their  way  to  the  jetty  reserved  for  the  use  of  the  ships  of 
war,  and  soon  took  their  places,  and  were  rowed  off  to  the 
frigate,  Skeffy  waving  his  adieux  till  darkness  rendered  his 
gallantry  unnoticed. 

All  his  late  devotion  to  the  cares  of  love  and  friendship 
had  made  such  inroads  on  his  time  that  he  scarcely  knew 
what  was  occurring,  and  had  lamentably  failed  to  report  to 
''the  Office"  the  various  steps  by  which  revolution  had 
advanced,  and  was  already  all  but  installed  as  master  of 
the  kingdom.  Determined  to  write  off  a  most  telling  de- 
spatch, he  entered  the  hotel,  and,  seeing  Alice  engaged  letter- 
writing  at  one  table,  he  quietly  installed  himself  at  another, 
merely  saying,  "The  boat  will  be  back  by  midnight,  and  I 
have  just  time  to  send  off  an  im.portant  despatch." 

Alice  looked  up  from  her  writing,  and  a  very  faint  smile 
curled  her  lip.  She  did  not  speak,  however,  and  after  a 
moment  continued  her  letter. 

For  upwards  of  half  an  hour  the  scraping  sounds  of  the 
pens  were  the  only  noises  in  the  room,  except  at  times  a 
low  murmur  as  Skeff  read  over  to  himself  some  passage  of 
unusual  force  and  brilliancy. 

"You  must  surely  be  doing  something  very  effective, 
Skeff,"  said  Alice,  from  the  other  end  of  the  room,  "for  you 


THE   SIXTH  OF   SEPTEMBER.  619 

rubbed  your  bauds  witb  deligbt,  and  looked  radiaut  with 
triumph." 

"I  think  I  have  given  it  to  them!  "  cried  he.  ''There  's 
not  another  man  in  the  line  would  send  home  such  a  de- 
spatch. Canning  would  n't  have  done  it  in  the  old  days, 
when  be  used  to  bully  them.     Shall  I  read  it  for  you  ?  " 

"My  dear  Skeff,  I  'm  not  Bella.  I  never  had  a  head  for 
questions  of  politics.  I  am  hopelessly  stupid  in  all  such 
matters." 

"  Ah,  yes ;  Bella  told  me  that.  Bella  herself,  indeed,  only 
learned  to  feel  an  interest  in  them  through  me;  but,  as  I 
told  her,  the  woman  who  would  one  day  be  an  ambassadress 
cannot  afford  to  be  ignorant  of  the  great  European  game  in 
which  her  husband  is  a  player." 

"Quite  true;  but  I  have  no  such  ambitions  before  me;  and 
fortunate  it  is,  for  really  I  could  not  rise  to  the  height  of 
such  lofty  themes." 

Skeff  smiled  pleasantly;  her  humility  soothed  him.  He 
turned  to  the  last  paragraph  he  had  penned  and  re-read  it. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Alice,  carelessly,  and  certainly  noth- 
ing was  less  apropos  to  what  they  had  been  saying,  though 
she  commenced  thus, —  "by  the  way,  how  did  you  find  Tony 
looking,  — improved,  or  the  reverse?" 

"Improved  in  one  respect;  fuller,  browner,  more  manly, 
perhaps,  but  coarser ;  he  wants  the  —  you  know  what  I  mean 
—  he  wants  this!  "  and  he  swayed  his  arm  in  a  bold  sweep, 
and  stood  fixed,  with  his  hand  extended. 

"Ah,  indeed!"  said  she,  faintly. 

"Don't  you  think  so  —  don't  you  agree  with  me,  Alice?" 

"Perhaps  to  a  certain  extent  1  do,"  said  she,  ditBdentl3^ 

"How  could  it  be  otherwise,  consorting  with  such  a  set? 
You  'd  not  expect  to  find  it  there?  " 

Alice  nodded  assent  all  the  more  readily  that  she  had  not 
the  vaguest  conception  of  what  "it"  might  mean. 

"The  fact  is,  Alice,"  said  he,  arising  and  walking  the 
room  with  immense  strides,  "  Tony  will  always  be  Tony ! " 

"I  suppose  he  will,"  said  she,  dryl3^ 

"Yes;  but  you  don't  follow  me.  You  don't  appreciate 
my  meaning.  I  desired  to  convey  this  opinion,  that  Tony 
being  one  of  those  men  who  cannot  add  to  their  own  natures 


520  TONY  BUTLER. 

the  gifts  and  graces  which  a  man  acquires  who  has  his 
successes  with  your  sex  —  " 

"Come,  come,  Skeff,  you  must  neither  be  metaphysical 
nor  improper.  Tony  is  a  very  fine  boy,  —  only  a  boy,  I 
acknowledge,  but  he  has  noble  qualities ;  and  every  year  he 
lives  will,  I  feel  certain,  but  develop  them  further." 

"He  won't  stand  the  '  boy '  tone  any  longer,"  said  Skeff, 
dryly.     "I  tried  it,  and  he  was  down  on  me  at  once." 

"  What  did  he  say  when  you  told  him  we  were  here  ?  "  said 
she,  carelessly,  while  putting  her  papers  in  order. 

"He  was  surprised." 

"Was  he  pleased?" 

"Oh,  yes,  pleased,  certainly;  he  was  rather  afraid  of 
meeting  your  mother,   though." 

"Afraid  of  mamma!  how  could  that  be?" 

"Some  lesson  or  other  she  once  gave  him  sticks  in  his 
throat;  something  she  said  about  presumption,  I  think." 

"Oh,  no,  no;  this  is  quite  impossible, —  I  can't  credit  it." 

"Well,  it  might  be  some  fancy  of  his;  for  he  has  fancies, 
and  very  queer  ones  too.  One  was  about  a  godfather  of 
mine.  Come  in,  — what  is  it?  "  cried  he,  as  a  knock  came 
to  the  door. 

"A  soldier  below  stairs,  sir,  wishes  to  speak  to  you,"  said 
the  waiter. 

"Ah!  something  of  importance  from  Filangieri,  I've  no 
doubt,"  said  Skeff,  rising  and  leaving  the  room.  Before  he 
had  gone  many  paces,  however,  he  saw  a  large,  powerful 
figure  in  the  red  shirt  and  small  cap  of  the  Garibaldians, 
standing  in  the  corridor,  and  the  next  instant  he  turned 
fully  round,  —  it  was  Tony. 

"My  dear  Tony,  when  did  you  arrive?" 

"This  moment;  I  am  off  again,  however,  at  once,  but  I 
would  n't  leave  without  seeing  you." 

"Off,  and  where  to?" 

"Home;  I've  taken  a  passage  to  Marseilles  in  the  Mes- 
sageries  boat,  and  she  sails  at  two  o'clock.  You  see  I  was 
no  use  here  till  this  arm  got  right,  and  the  General  thought 
my  head  would  n't  be  the  worse  of  a  little  quiet;  so  I  '11  go 
back  and  recruit,  and  if  they  want  me  they  shall  have  me." 

"You  don't  know  who  's  there?  "  whispered  Skeff.     Tony 


* 


THE   SIXTH  OF   SEPTEMBER.  621 

shook  his  head.  ''And  all  alone,  too,"  added  the  other, 
still  lower.     "Alice,  — Alice  Trafford." 

Tony  grew  suddenly  very  pale,  and  leaned  against  the 
wall. 

''Come  in;  come  in  at  once,  and  see  her.  AYe  have  been 
talking  of  you  all  the  evening." 

"No,  no,  — not  now,"  said  Tony,  faintly. 

"And  when,  if  not  now?     You're  going  off,  you  said." 

"I'm  in  no  trim  to  pay  visits;  besides,  I  don't  wish  it. 
I'll  tell  you  more  some  other  time." 

"Nonsense;  you  look  right  well  in  your  brigand  costume, 
and  with  an  old  friend,  not  to  say —  Well,  well,  don't  look 
sulky ;  "  and  as  he  got  thus  far  —  he  had  been  gradually 
edging  closer  and  closer  to  the  door  —  he  flung  it  wide  open, 
and  called  out,  "Mr.  Tony  Butler!  "  Pushing  Tony  inside, 
and  then  closing  the  door  behind,  he  retreated,  laughing 
heartily  to  himself  over  his  practical  joke. 


CHAPTER   LIX. 

AN    AWKWARD    MOMENT. 

Alice  started  as  she  heard  the  name  Tony  Butler,  and  for 
a  moment  neither  spoke.  There  was  confusion  and  awk- 
wardness on  either  side ;  all  the  greater  that  each  saw  it  in 
the  other.  She,  however,  was  the  first  to  rally;  and,  with  a 
semblance  of  old  friendship,  held  out  her  hand,  and  said, 
"I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Tony,  and  to  see  you  safe." 

"I  'd  not  have  dared  to  present  myself  in  such  a  dress," 
stammered  he  out;  "but  that  scamp  Skeffy  gave  me  no 
choice:  he  opened  the  door  and  pushed  me  in." 

"Your  dress  is  quite  good  enough  to  visit  an  old  friend 
in.  AVon't  you  sit  down?  —  sit  here."  As  she  spoke,  she 
seated  herself  on  an  ottoman,  and  pointed  to  a  place  at 
her  side.  "I  am  longing  to  hear  something  about  your  cam- 
paigns. Skeff  was  so  provoking;  he  only  told  us  about 
what  he  saw  at  Cava,  and  his  own  adventures  on  the  road." 

"I  have  very  little  to  tell,  and  less  time  to  tell  it.  I  must 
embark  in  about  half  an  hour." 

"And  where  for?" 

"For  home." 

"So  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  Skeff' s  indiscretion  I 
should  not  have  seen  you?"  said  she,  coldly. 

"Not  at  this  moment,  — not  in  this  guise." 

"Indeed!  "     And  there  was  another  pause. 

"I  hope  Bella  is  better.  Has  she  quite  recovered?" 
asked  he. 

"She  is  quite  well  again;  she  '11  be  soiTy  to  have  missed 
you,  Tony.  She  wanted,  besides,  to  tell  you  how  happy 
it  made  her  to  hear  of  all  your  good  fortune." 

"My  good  fortune!  Oh,  yes  —  to  be  sure.  It  was  sc 
unlooked  for,"  added  he,  with  a  faint  smile,  "that  I  have 


AN  AWKWARD   MOMENT.  523 

hardly  been  able  to  realize  it  yet;  that  is,  I  find  myself 
planning  half-a-dozen  ways  to  earn  my  bread,  when  1  sud- 
denly remember  that  I  shall  not  need  them." 

"And  I  hope  it  makes  you  happy,  Tony?" 

"  Of  course-  it  does.  It  enables  me  to  make  my  mother 
happy,  and  to  secure  that  we  shall  not  be  separated.  As  for 
myself  alone,  my  habits  are  simple  enough,  and  my  tastes 
also.  My  difficulty  will  be,  I  suppose,  to  acquire  more 
expensive  ones." 

*'  It  is  not  a  very  hard  task,  I  believe,"  said  she,  smiling. 

"  Not  for  others,  perhaps ;  but  I  was  reared  in  narrow 
fortune,  Alice,  trained  to  submit  to  many  a  privation,  and 
told  too  —  I  'm  not  sure  very  wisely  —  that  such  hardships 
are  all  the  more  easily  borne  by  a  man  of  good  blood  and 
lineage.  Perhaps  I  did  not  read  my  lesson  right.  At  all 
events,  I  thought  a  deal  more  of  my  good  blood  than  other 
people  were  willing  to  accord  it ;  and  the  result  'v/as,  it 
misled  me." 

''  Misled  you  !  and  how  —  in  what  way?  " 

"  Is  it  you  who  ask  me  this  —  you,  Alice,  who  have  read 
me  such  wise  lessons  on  self-dependence,  while  Lady  Lyle 
tried  to  finish  my  education  by  showing  the  evils  of  over- 
presumption  ;  and  you  were  both  I'ight,  though  I  did  n't  see 
it  at  the  time." 

"  I  declare  I  do  not  understand  you,  Tony!  "  said  she. 

''  Well,  I  '11  try  to  be  clearer,"  said  he,  with  more  anima- 
tion. "  From  the  first  day  I  knew  j^ou,  Alice,  I  loved  you. 
I  need  not  say  that  all  the  difference  in  station  between  us 
never  affected  my  love.  You  were  too  far  above  me  in  every 
gift  and  grace  to  make  rank,  mere  rank,  ever  occur  to  my 
mind,  though  others  were  good  enough  to  jog  my  memory  on 
the  subject." 

"  Others  !  of  whom  are  you  speaking?  " 

"  Your  brother  Mark,  for  one ;  but  I  don't  want  to  think 
of  these  things.  I  loved  you,  I  say ;  and  to  that  degree 
that  every  change  of  your  manner  towards  me  made  the  joy 
or  the  misery  of  my  life.  This  was  when  I  was  an  idle 
youth,  lounging  about  in  that  condition  of  half  dependence 
that,  as  I  look  back  on,  I  blush  to  think  I  ever  could  have 


524  TONY  BUTLER. 

endured.     My  only   excuse   is,    however,    that  I  knew  no 
better." 

"  There  was  nothing  unbecoming  in  what  you  did." 

"  Yes,  there  was,  though.  There  was  this  :  I  was  satisfied 
to  hold  an  ambiguous  position,  —  to  be  a  something,  neither 
master  nor  servant,  in  another  man's  house,  all  because  it 
gave  me  the  daily  happiness  to  be  near  you,  and  to  see  you, 
and  to  hear  your  voice.  That  was  unbecoming,  and  the  best 
proof  of  it  was,  that  with  all  my  love  and  all  my  devotion, 
you  could  not  care  for  me." 

"  Oh,  Tony  !  do  not  say  that." 

''  When  I  say  care,  you  could  not  do  more  than  care ;  you 
could  n't  love  me." 

"  Were  you  not  always  as  a  dear  brother  to  me?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  be  more  than  brother,  and  when  I  found 
that  this  could  not  be,  I  grew  very  careless,  almost  reckless, 
of  my  life ;  not  but  that  it  took  a  long  time  to  teach  me  the 
full  lesson.  I  had  to  think  over,  not  only  all  that  separated 
us  in  station,  but  all  that  estranged  us  in  tone  of  mind ;  and 
I  saw  that  your  superiority  to  me  chafed  me,  and  that  if  you 
should  ever  come  to  feel  for  me,  it  would  be  through  some 
sense  of  pity." 

"  Oh,  Tony!" 

"Yes,  Alice,  you  know  it  better  than  I  can  say  it;  and 
so  I  set  my  pride  to  fight  against  my  love,  with  no  great 
success  at  first.  But  as  I  lay  wounded  in  the  orchard  at 
Melazzo,  and  thought  of  my  poor  mother,  and  her  sorrow  if 
she  were  to  hear  of  my  death,  and  compared  her  grief  with 
w^hat  yours  would  be,  I  saw  what  was  real  in  love,  and  what 
was  mere  interest ;  and  I  remember  I  took  out  my  two  relics, 
—  the  dearest  objects  I  had  in  the  world,  —  a  lock  of  my 
mother's  hair  and  a  certain  glove,  —  a  white  glove  you  may 
have  seen  once  on  a  time ;  and  it  was  over  the  little  braid  of 
brown  hair  I  let  fall  the  last  tears  I  thought  ever  to  shed  in 
life ;  and  here  is  the  glove  —  I  give  it  back  to  you.  Will 
you  have  it?" 

She  took  it  with  a  trembling  hand ;  and  in  a  voice  of 
weak  but  steady  utterance  said,  "  I  told  you  that  this  time 
would  come." 

"  You  did  so,"  said  he,  gloomily. 


AN  AWKWARD   MOMENT.  525 

Alice  rose  and  walked  out  upon  the  balcony  ;  and  after  a 
moment  Tony  followed  her.  They  leaned  on  the  balustrade 
side  by  side,  but  neither  spoke. 

"  But  we  shall  alwa^^s  be  dear  friends,  Tony,  sha'n't  we?  " 
said  she,  while  she  laid  her  hand  gently  over  his. 

''Oh,  Alice,"  said  he,  plaintively,  "do  not  —  do  not,  I 
beseech  you  —  lead  me  back  again  into  that  land  of  delusion 
I  have  just  tried  to  escape  from.  If  you  knew  how  I  loved 
you  —  if  you  knew  what  it  costs  me  to  tear  that  love  out  of 
my  heart — you'd  never  wish  to  make  the  agony  greater 
to  me." 

"  Dear  Tony,  it  was  a  mere  boyish  passion.  Remember 
for  a  moment  how  it  began.  I  was  older  than  you  —  much 
older  as  regards  life  and  the  world  —  and  even  older  by 
more  than  a  year.  You  were  so  proud  to  attach  yourself  to 
a  grown  woman,  —  you  a  mere  lad;  and  then  your  love  — 
for  I  will  grant  it  was  love  —  dignified  you  to  yourself.  It 
made  you  more  daring  where  there  was  danger,  and  it  taught 
you  to  be  gentler  and  kinder,  and  more  considerate  to  every 
one.  All  your  good  and  great  qualities  grew  the  faster  that 
they  had  those  little  vicissitudes  of  joy  and  sorrow,  the  sua 
and  rain  of  our  daily  lives ;  but  all  that  is  not  love." 

"You  mean  there  is  no  love  where  there  is  no  return  of 
love?" 

She  was  silent. 

"If  so,  I  deny  it.  The  faintest  flicker  of  a  hope  was 
enough  for  me;  the  merest  shadow,  a  smile,  a  passing  word, 
your  mere  'Thank  you,  Tony,'  as  I  held  your  stirrup,  the 
little  word  of  recognition  you  would  give  when  I  had  done 
something  that  pleased  you,  —  these  —  any  of  them  —  would 
send  me  home  happy,  —  happier,  perhaps,  than  I  ever  shall 
be  again." 

"  No,  Tony,  do  not  believe  that,"  said  she,  calmly;  "not," 
added  she,  hastily,  "that  I  can  acquit  myself  of  all  wrong 
to  you.  No;  I  was  in  fault,  —  gravely  in  fault.  I  ought 
to  have  seen  what  would  have  come  of  all  our  intimacy;  I 
ought  to  have  known  that  I  could  not  develop  all  that  was 
best  in  your  nature  without  making  you  turn  in  gratitude  — 
well,  in  love  —  to  myself;  but  shall  I  tell  you  the  truth?  I 
over-estimated  my  power  over  you.     I  not  only  thought  I 


526  TONY  BUTLER. 

could  make  you  love,  but  unlove  me ;  and  I  never  thought 
what  pain  that  lesson  might  cost  —  each  of  us." 

"It  would  have  been  fairer  to  have  cast  me  adrift  at  first," 
said  he,  fiercely. 

"And  yet,  Tony,  you  will  be  generous  enough  one  of 
these  days  to  think  differently!  " 

"I  certainly  feel  no  touch  of  that  generosity  now." 

"Because  you  are  angry  with  me,  Tony, — because  you 
will  not  be  just  to  me ;  but  when  you  have  learned  to  think  of 
me  as  your  sister,  and  can  come  and  say,  Dear  Alice,  coun- 
sel me  as  to  this,  advise  me  as  to  that,  —  then  there  will  be 
no  ill-will  towards  me  for  all  I  have  done  to  teach  you  the 
great  stores  that  were  in  your  own  nature." 

"Such  a  day  as  that  is  distant,"  said  he,  gloomily. 

"Who  knows?  The  changes  which  work  within  us  are 
not  to  be  measured  by  time ;  a  day  of  sorrow  will  do  the 
work  of  years." 

"There!  that  lantern  at  the  peak  is  the  signal  for  me  to 
be  oif.  The  skipper  promised  to  give  me  notice;  but  if  you 
will  say  '  Stay! '  be  it  so.  No,  no,  Alice,  do  not  lay  your 
hand  on  my  arm  if  you  would  not  have  me  again  deceive 
myself." 

"You  will  write  to  me,  Tony?" 

He  shook  his  head  to  imply  the  negative. 

"Well,  to  Bella,  at  least?  " 

"I  think  not.  I  will  not  promise.  Why  should  I?  Is 
it  to  try  and  knot  together  the  cords  we  have  just  torn,  that 
you  may  break  them  again  at  your  pleasure  ?  " 

"How  ungenerous  you  are!  " 

"You  reminded  me  awhile  ago  it  was  my  devotion  to 
you  that  civilized  me;  is  it  not  natural  that  I  should  go 
back  to  savagery,  as  my  allegiance  was  rejected?" 

"You  want  to  be  Garibaldian  in  love  as  in  war,"  said 
she,  smiling. 

The  deep  boom  of  a  gun  floated  over  the  bay,  and  Tony 
started. 

"That's  the  last  signal, — good-bye."  He  held  out  his 
hand. 

"Good-bye,  dear  Tony,"  said  she.  She  held  her  cheek 
towards  him.     He  hesitated,  blushed  till  his  face  was  in  a 


AN  AWKWARD  MOMENT.  527 

flame,  then  stooped  and  kissed  her.  Skeff's  voice  was 
heard  at  the  instant  at  the  door ;  and  Tony  rushed  past  him 
and  down  the  stairs,  and  then,  with  mad  speed,  dashed 
along  to  the  jetty,  leaped  into  the  boat,  and,  covering  his 
face  with  his  hands,  never  raised  his  head  till  they  were 
alongside. 

"You  were  within  an  inch  of  being  late,  Tony,"  cried 
M'Gruder,  a^  he  came  up  the  side.     "What  detained  you?  " 

"I  '11  tell  you  all  another  time,  —  let  me  go  below  now;  " 
and  he  disappeared  down  the  ladder.  The  heavy  paddles 
flapped  slowly,  then  faster;  and  the  great  mass  moved  on, 
and  made  for  the  open  sea. 


CHAPTER   LX. 

A   DECK    WALK. 

The  steamer  was  well  out  to  sea  when  Tony  appeared  on 
deck.  It  was  a  calm,  starlight  night,  —  fresh,  but  not  cold. 
The  few  passengers,  however,  had  sought  their  berths  below, 
and  the  only  one  who  lingered  on  deck  was  M'Gruder  and 
one  other,  who,  wrapped  in  a  large  boat-cloak,  lay  fast 
asleep  beside  the  binnacle. 

*'I  was  thinking  you  had  turned  in/'  said  M'Gruder  to 
Tony,  "as  you  had  not  come  up." 

"Give  me  a  light;  I  want  a  smoke  badly.  I  felt  that 
something  was  wrong  with  me,  though  I  did  n't  know  what 
it  was.     Is  this  Rory  here  ?  " 

*'Yes,  sound  asleep,  poor  fellow." 

*'I  '11  wager  a  trifle  he  has  a  lighter  heart  than  either  of 
us,  Sam." 

"It  might  easily  be  lighter  than  mine,"  sighed  M'Gruder, 
heavily. 

Tony  sighed  too,  but  said  nothing,  and  they  walked  along 
side  by  side,  with  that  short  jerking  stride  men  pace  a  deck 
with,  feeling  some  sort  of  companionship,  although  no  words 
were  exchanged  between  them. 

"You  were  nigh  being  late,"  said  M'Gruder,  at  last. 
"What  detained  you  on  shore?  " 

"I  saw  her!  '*  said  Tony,  in  a  low  muffled  voice. 

"You  saw  her!  Why,  you  told  me  you  were  determined 
not  to  see  her." 

"So  I  was,  and  so  I  intended.  It  came  about  by  mere 
accident.  That  strange  fellow,  Skeffy,  you've  heard  me 
speak  of,  —  he  pushed  me  plump  into  the  room  where  she 
was,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  speak  to  her." 

"Well?" 


A  DECK  WALK.  529 

"Well!  I  spoke,"  said  he,  half  gruffly;  and  then,  as  if 
correcting  the  roughness  of  his  tone,  added,  "It  was  just  as 
I  said  it  would  be;  just  as  I  told  you.  She  liked  me  well 
enough  as  a  brother,  but  never  thought  of  me  as  anything 
else.  All  the  interest  she  had  taken  in  me  was  out  of 
friendship.  She  didn't  say  this  haughtily,  not  a  bit;  she 
felt  herself  much  older  than  me,  she  said;  that  she  felt  her- 
self better  was  like  enough,  but  she  never  hinted  it,  but  she 
let  me  feel  pretty  plainly  that  we  were  not  made  for  each 
other;  and  though  the  lesson  wasn't  much  to  my  liking,  I 
began  to  see  it  was  true." 

"Did  you  really?  " 

"I  did,"  said  he,  with  a  deep  sigh.  "I  saw  that  all  the 
love  I  had  borne  her  was  only  paid  back  in  a  sort  of  feeling 
half  compassionately,  half  kindly;  that  her  interest  in  me 
was  out  of  some  desire  to  make  something  out  of  me;  I 
mean,  to  force  me  to  exert  m3'self  and  do  something,  —  any- 
thing besides  living  a  hanger-on  at  a  great  house.  I  have  a 
notion,  too, —  Heaven  knows  if  there  's  anything  in  it, —  but 
I  've  a  notion,  Sam,  if  she  had  never  known  me  till  now,  — 
if  she  had  never  seen  me  idling  and  lounging  about  in  that 
ambiguous  position  I  held,  — something  between  gamekeeper 
and  reduced  gentleman,  —  that  I  might  have  had  a  better 
chance." 

M'Gruder  nodded  a  half-assent,  and  Tony  continued: 
"I  '11  tell  you  why  I  think  so.  Whenever  she-  asked  me 
about  the  campaign  and  the  way  I  was  wounded,  and  what 
I  had  seen,  there  was  quite  a  change  in  her  voice,  and  she 
listened  to  what  I  said  very  differently  from  the  way  she 
heard  me  when  I  talked  to  her  of  my  affection  for  her." 

"There  's  no  knowing  them!  there  's  no  knowing  them!  " 
said  M'Gruder,  drearily;  "and  how  did  it  end?" 

"It  ended  that  way." 

"What  way?" 

''Just  as  I  told  you.  She  said  she  'd  always  be  the  same 
as  a  sister  to  me,  and  that  when  I  grew  older  and  wiser  I  'd 
see  that  there  should  never  have  been  any  closer  tie  between 
us.  I  can't  repeat  the  words  she  used,  but  it  was  something 
to  this  purport,  —  that  when  a  woman  has  been  lecturing  a 
man  about  his  line  of  life,  and  trying  to  make  something 

34 


530  TOXY  BUTLER. 

out  of  him,  against  the  grain  of  his  own  indolence,  she  can't 
turn  suddenly  round  and  fall  in  love,  even  though  he  was 
in  love  with  Ae?\" 

"She  has  a  good  head  on  her  shoulders,  she  has,"  muttered 
M'Gruder. 

"I'd  rather  she  had  a  little  more  heart,"  said  Tony, 
peevishly. 

"That  may  be;  but  she's  right,  after  all." 

"And  wh}^  is  she  right?  why  should  n't  she  see  me  as  I  am 
DOW,  and  not  persist  in  looking  at  me  as  I  used  to  be?" 

"Just  because  it's  not  her  humor,  I  suppose;  at  least,  I 
don't  know  any  better  reason." 

Tony  wheeled  suddenly  away  from  his  companion,  and 
took  two  or  three  turns  alone.  At  last  he  said,  "She  never 
told  me  so,  but  I  suppose  the  truth  was,  all  this  time  she 
did  think  me  very  presumptuous;  and  that  what  her  mother 
did  not  scruple  to  say  to  me  in  words,  Alice  had  often  said 
to  her  own  heart." 

"You  are  rich  enough  now  to  make  you  her  equal." 

"And  I  'd  rather  be  as  poor  as  I  used  to  be  and  have  the 
hopes  that  have  left  me." 

M'Gruder  gave  a  heavy  sigh,  and,  turning  away,  leaned 
on  the  bulwark  and  hid  his  face.  "I  'm  a  bad  comforter, 
Tony,"  said  he  at  last,  and  speaking  with  difficulty.  "I 
did  n't  mean  to  have  told  you,  for  you  have  cares  enough  of 
your  own,  but  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  — read  that."  As 
he  spoke,  he  drew  out  a  letter  and  handed  it  to  him;  and 
Tony,  stooping  down  beside  the  binnacle  light,  read  it  over 
twice. 

"This  is  clear  and  clean  beyond  me."  exclaimed  he,  as  he 
stood  up.  "From  any  other  girl  I  could  understand  it;  but 
Dolly, — Dolly  Stewart,  who  never  broke  her  word  in  her 
life, — I  never  knew  her  tell  a  lie  as  a  little  child.  What 
can  she  mean  by  it?  " 

"Just  what  she  says  —  there  —  she  thought  she  could 
marry  me,  and  she  finds  she  cannot." 

"But  why?" 

"Ah!  that 's  more  than  she  likes  to  tell  me, —  more,  may- 
hap, than  she  'd  tell  any  one." 

"Have  you  any  clew  to  it?" 


A   DECK  WALK.  531 

"None,  — not  the  slightest." 

"Is  your  sister-in-law  in  it?  Has  she  said  or  written 
anything  that  Dolly  could  resent?" 

"No;  don't  you  mark  what  she  says  at  the  end?  'You 
must  not  try  to  lighten  any  blame  you  would  lay  on  me  by 
thinking  that  any  one  has  influenced  me.  The  fault  is  all 
my  own.     It  is  I  myself  have  to  ask  your  forgiveness.'  " 

"Was  there  any  coldness  in  your  late  letters?  Was  there 
anything  that  she  could  construe  into  change  of  affection?" 

"Nothing,  —  nothing." 

"What  will  her  father  say  to  it?"  said  Tony,  after  a 
pause. 

''She's  afraid  of  that  herself.  You  mind  the  words?  — 
*  If  I  meet  forgiveness  from  you,  I  shall  not  from  others,  and 
my  fault  will  bear  its  heavy  punishment  on  a  heart  that  is 
not  too  happy.'  Poor  thing!  I  do  forgive  her,  —  forgive 
her  with  all  my  heart;  but  it 's  a  great  blow,  Tony." 

"If  she  was  a  capricious  girl,  I  could  understand  it,  but 
that's  what  she  never  was." 

"No,  no;  she  was  true  and  honest  in  all  things." 

"It  may  be  something  about  her  father;  he  's  an  old  man, 
and  failing.  She  cannot  bear  to  leave  him,  perhaps,  and 
it 's  just  possible  she  could  n't  bring  herself  to  say  it.  Don't 
you  think  it  might  be  that?  " 

"  Don't  give  me  a  hope,  Tony.  Don't  let  me  see  a 
glimpse  of  light,  my  dear  friend,  if  there  's  to  be  no  fulfil- 
ment after." 

The  tone  of  emotion  he  spoke  in  made  Tony  unable  to 
reply  for  some  minutes.  "I  have  no  right  to  say  this,  it  is 
true,"  said  he,  kindly;  "but  it's  the  nearest  guess  I  can 
make:  I  know,  for  she  told  me  so  herself,  she  'd  not  go  and 
be  a  governess  again  if  she  could  help  it." 

"Oh,  if  jou  were  to  be  right,  Tony!  Oh,  if  it  was  to  be 
as  you  suspect;  for  we  could  make  him  come  out  and  live 
with  us  here!  We've  plenty  of  room,  and  it  would  be  a 
pleasure  to  see  him  happy,  and  at  rest,  after  his  long  life  of 
labor.  Let  us  read  the  letter  over  together,  Tony,  and  see 
how  it  agrees  with  that  thought;"  and  now  they  both 
crouched  down  beside  the  light,  and  read  it  over  from  end 
to  end.     Here  and  there  were  passages  that  they  pondered 


532  TONY  BUTLER. 

over  seriously,  and  sonie  they  read  twice  and  even  thrice; 
and  although  they  brought  to  this  task  the  desire  to  con- 
firm a  speculation,  there  was  that  in  the  tone  of  the  letter 
that  gave  little  ground  for  their  hope.  It  was  so  self- 
accusing  throughout,  that  it  was  plain  she  herself  laid  no 
comfort  to  her  own  heart  in  the  thought  of  a  high  duty 
fulfilled. 

"Are  you  of  the  same  mind  still?"  asked  M'Gruder, 
sadly,  and  with  little  of  hopefulness  in  his  voice;  and  Tony 
was  silent. 

''  I  see  you  are  not.  I  see  that  you  cannot  give  me  such 
a  hope." 

"Have  you  answered  this  yet?" 

"Yes,  I  have  written  it;  but  it 's  not  sent  off.  I  kept  it 
by  me  to  read  over,  and  see  that  there  was  nothing  harsh  or 
cruel, — nothing  I  would  not  say  in  cold  blood;  for  oh, 
Tony  I  I  will  avow  it  was  hard  to  forgive  her;  no,  I  don't 
mean  that,  but  it  was  hard  to  bring  myself  to  believe  I  had 
lost  her  forever.  For  a  while  I  thought  the  best  thing  I 
could  do  was  to  comfort  myself  by  thinking  how  false  she 
was.  and  I  took  out  all  her  letters,  to  convince  me  of  her 
duplicity ;  but  what  do  you  think  I  found  ?  They  all  showed 
me,  what  I  never  saw  till  then,  that  she  was  only  going  to 
be  my  wife  out  of  a  sort  of  resignation;  that  the  grief  and 
fretting  of  her  poor  father  at  leaving  her  penniless  in  the 
world  was  more  than  she  could  bear;  and  that  to  give  him 
the  comfort  of  his  last  few  days  in  peace,  she  'd  make  any 
sacrifice;  and  through  all  the  letters,  though  I  never  saw  it 
before,  she  laid  stress  on  what  she  called  doing  her  best  to 
make  me  happy,  but  there  was  no  word  of  being  happy 
herself." 

Perhaps  Tony  did  not  lay  the  same  stress  on  this  that  his 
friend  did;  perhaps  no  explanation  of  it  came  readily  to  his 
mind;  at  all  events,  he  made  no  attempt  at  comment,  and 
only  said,  — 

"And  what  will  your  answer  be?  " 

"What  can  it  be?  —  to  release  her,  of  course." 

"Ay,  but  how  will  you  say  it?" 

"Here's  what  I  have  written;  it  is  the  fourth  attempt, 
and  I   don't   much  like  it  yet,   but  I  can't  do  it   better." 


A  DECK   WALK.  533 

And  once  more  they  turned  to  the  light  while  M'G ruder 
read  out  his  letter.  It  was  a  kind  and  feeling  letter ;  it 
contained  not  one  word  of  reproach,  but  it  said  that,  into 
the  home  he  had  taken,  and  where  he  meant  to  be  so  happy, 
he  'd  never  put  foot  again.  "  You  ought  to  have  seen  it, 
Tony,"  said  he,  with  a  quiver  in  his  voice.  "  It  was  all  so 
neat  and  comfortable ;  and  the  little  room  I  meant  to  be 
Dolly's  own  was  hung  round  with  prints,  and  there  was  a 
little  terrace,  with  some  orange-trees  and  myrtles,  that  would 
grow  there  all  through  the  winter,  —  for  it  was  a  sheltered 
spot  under  the  Monte  Xero ;   but  it's  all  over  now." 

"  Don't  send  off  that  letter.  I  mean,  let  me  see  her  and 
speak  to  her  before  you  write.  I  shall  be  at  home,  I  hope, 
by  Wednesday,  and  I  '11  go  over  to  the  Burnside,  —  or, 
better  still,  I  '11  make  my  mother  ask  Dolly  to  come  over  to 
us.  Dolly  loves  her  as  if  she  were  her  own  mother,  and  if 
any  one  can  influence  her  she  will  be  that  one." 

''But  I'd  not  wish  her  to  come  round  by  persuasion, 
Tony.  Dolly 's  a  girl  to  have  a  will  of  her  own,  and  she 's 
never  made  up  her  mind  to  write  me  that  letter  without 
thinking  well  over  it." 

"Perhaps  she'll  tell  ray  mother  her  reasons.  Perhaps 
she  '11  say  why  she  draws  back  from  her  promise." 

"I  don't  even  know  that  I'd  like  to  drive  her  to  that;  it 
might  n't  be  quite  fair." 

Tony  flung  away  his  cigar  with  impatience ;  he  was  irri- 
tated, for  he  bethought  him  of  his  own  case,  and  how  it  was 
quite  possible  that  no  such  scruples  of  delicacy  would  have 
interfered  with  him  if  he  could  only  have  managed  to  find 
out  what  was  passing  in  Alice's  mind. 

"  I'm  sure,"  said  M'Gruder,  "  you  agree  with  me,  Tony; 
and  if  she  says,  '  Don't  hold  me  to  my  pledge,'  I  have  no 
right  to  ask  why." 

A  short  shrug  of  the  shoulders  was  all  Tony's  answer. 

"  Not  that  I  'd  object  to  3'our  sajnng  a  word  for  me,  Tony, 
if  there  was  to  be  any  hope  from  it,  —  saying  what  a  warm 
friend  could  say  of  one  he  thought  well  of.  You  've  been 
living  under  the  same  roof  with  me,  and  you  know  more  of 
my  nature,  and  my  ways  and  my  temper,  than  most  men, 
and  ma:yhaD  what  you  could  tell  her  might  have  its  weight." 


534  TONY  BUTLER. 

"That  I  know  and  believe." 

*'But  don't  think  only  of  me,  Tony.  S/ie^s  more  to  be 
considered  than  I  am;  and  if  this  bargain  was  to  be  un- 
happy for  her,  it  would  only  be  misery  for  both  of  us. 
You  'd  not  marry  your  own  sweetheart  against  her  own 
will?" 

Tony  neither  agreed  to  nor  dissented  from  this  remark. 
The  chances  were  that  it  was  a  proposition  not  so  readily 
solved,  and  that  he  'd  like  to  have  thought  over  it. 

*'No;  I  know  you  better  than  that,"  said  M'Gruder,  once 
more. 

"Perhaps  not,"  remarked  Tony;  but  the  tone  certainly 
gave  no  positive  assurance  of  a  settled  determination.  "At 
all  events,  I  '11  see  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

"If  it  was  that  she  cares  for  somebody  else  that  she 
could  n't  marry,  —  that  her  father  disliked,  or  that  he  was 
too  poor,  —  I  'd  never  say  one  word;  because  who  can  tell 
what  changes  may  come  in  life,  and  the  man  that  could  n't 
support  a  wife  now,  in  a  year  or  two  may  be  well  off  and 
thriving?  And  if  it  was  that  she  really  liked  another, — 
you  don't  think  that  likely?  Well,  neither  do  I;  but  I  say 
it  here  because  I  want  to  take  in  every  consideration  of  the 
question ;  but  I  repeat,  if  it  were  so,  I  'd  never  utter  one 
word  against  it.  Youi'  mother,  Tony,  is  more  likely  to  find 
tJiat  out  than  any  of  us;  and  if  she  says  Dolly's  heart  is 
given  away  already,  that  will  be  enough.  I  '11  not  trouble 
nor  torment  her  more." 

Tony  grasped  his  friend's  hand  and  shook  it  warmly,  some 
vague  suspicion  darting  through  him  at  the  time  that  this 
rag-merchant  was  more  generous  in  his  dealing  with  the 
woman  he  loved  than  he,  Tony,  would  have  been.  Was  it 
that  he  loved  less,  or  was  it  that  his  love  was  more?  Tony 
couldn't  tell;  nor  was  it  so  very  easy  to  resolve  it  either 
way. 

As  day  broke,  the  steamer  ran  into  Leghorn  to  land  some 
passengers  and  take  in  others;  and  M'Gruder,  while  he  took 
leave  of  Tony,  pointed  to  a  red-tiled  roof  rising  amongst 
some  olive-trees, — the  quaint  little  pigeon-house  on  top 
surmounted  with  a  weather-vane  fashioned  into  an  enormous 
letter  S. 


A  DECK  WALK.  635 

''There  it  is,"  said  he,  with  a  shake  in  his  voice;  "that 
was  to  have  been  her  home.  I  '11  not  go  near  it  till  I  hear 
from  you,  and  you  may  tell  her  so.  Tell  her  you  saw  it, 
Tony,  and  that  it  was  a  sweet  little  spot,  where  one  might 
look  for  happiness  if  they  could  only  bring  a  quiet  heart  to 
it.  And  above  all,  Tony,  write  to  me  frankly  and  openly, 
and  don't  give  me  any  hopes  if  your  own  conscience  tells 
you  I  have  no  right  to  them." 

With  a  strong  grasp  of  the  hand,  and  a  long  full  look  at 
each  other  m  silence,  M'Gruder  went  over  the  side  to  hia 
boat,  and  the  steamer  ploughed  on  her  way  to  Marseilles. 


CHAPTER   LXI. 

TONY   AT   HOME    AGAIN. 

Though  Tony  was  eager  to  persuade  Rory  to  accompany 
him  home,  the  poor  fellow  longed  so  ardently  to  see  his 
friends  and  relations,  to  tell  all  that  he  had  done  and  suffered 
for  "the  cause,"  and  to  show  the  rank  he  had  won,  that  Tony 
yielded  at  last,  and  only  bound  him  by  a  promise  to  come 
and  pass  his  Christmas  at  the  Causeway ;  and  now  he  has- 
tened on  night  and  day,  feverishly  impatient  to  see  his 
mother,  and  j^earning  for  that  affection  which  his  heart  had 
never  before  so  thirsted  after. 

There  were  times  when  he  felt  that,  without  Alice,  all  his 
good  fortune  in  life  was  valueless ;  and  it  was  a  matter  of 
utter  indifference  whether  he  was  to  see  himself  surrounded 
with  every  means  of  enjoyment,  or  rise  each  morning  to 
meet  some  call  of  labor.  And  then  there  were  times  when 
he  thought  of  the  great  space  that  separated  them,  —  not  in 
condition,  but  in  tastes  and  habits  and  requirements.  She 
was  of  that  gay  and  fashionable  world  that  she  adorned,  — 
made  for  it,  and  made  to  like  it;  its  admiration  and  its 
homage  were  things  she  looked  for.  What  would  he  have 
done  if  obliged  to  live  in  such  a  society?  His  delight  was 
the  freedom  of  an  out-of-door  existence,  —  the  hard  work  of 
field-sports,  dashed  with  a  certain  danger  that  gave  them 
their  zest.  In  these  he  admitted  no  man  to  be  his  superior; 
and  in  this  very  conscious  strength  lay  the  pride  that  sus- 
tained him.  Compel  him,  however,  to  live  in  another 
fashion,  surround  him  with  the  responsibilities  of  station, 
and  the  demands  of  certain  ceremonies,  and  he  would  be 
wretched.  "Perhaps  she  saw  all  that,"  muttered  he  to  him- 
self. "With  that  marvellous  quickness  of  hers,  who  knows 
if  she  might  not  have  foreseen  how  unsuited  I  was  to  all 


TONY  AT   HOME  AGAIN.  537 

habits  but  my  own  wayward  careless  ones  ?  And  though  I 
hope  I  shall  always  be  a  gentleman,  in  truth  there  are  some 
forms  of  the  condition  that  puzzle  me  sorely. 

"  And,  after  all,  have  I  not  my  dear  mother  to  look  after 
and  make  happy?  and  what  a  charm  it  will  give  to  life  to 
see  her  surrounded  with  the  little  objects  she  loved  and  cared 
for !  What  a  garden  she  shall  have  !  "  Climate  and  soil,  to 
be  sure,  were  stiff  adversaries  to  conquer,  but  mone}^  and 
skill  could  fight  them ;  and  that  school  for  the  little  girls  — 
the  fishermen's  daughters  —  that  she  was  always  planning, 
and  always  wondering  Sir  Arthur  Lyle  had  never  thought  of, 
she  should  have  it  now,  and  a  pretty  building,  too,  it  should 
be.  He  knew  the  very  spot  to  suit  it,  and  how  beautiful  he 
would  make  their  own  little  cottage,  if  his  mother  should 
still  desire  to  live  there.  Not  that  he  thought  of  this  posi- 
tively with  perfect  calm  and  indifference.  To  live  so  near 
the  Lyles,  and  live  estranged  from  them,  would  be  a  great 
source  of  unpleasantness,  and  yet  how  could  he  possibly 
renew  his  relations  there,  now  that  all  was  over  between 
Alice  and  himself?  "Ah,"  thought  he,  at  last,  "  the  world 
would  stand  still  if  it  had  to  wait  for  stupid  fellows  like  me 
to  solve  its  difficulties.  I  must  just  let  events  happen,  and 
do  the  best  I  can  when  they  confront  me ;  "  and  then  mother 
would  be  there,  mother  would  counsel  and  advise  him ; 
mother  would  warn  him  of  this,  and  reconcile  him  to  that ; 
and  so  he  was  of  good  cheer  as  to  the  future,  though  there 
were  things  in  the  present  that  pressed  him  sorely. 

It  was  about  an  hour  after  dark  of  a  starry,  sharp  October 
evening,  that  the  jaunting-car  on  which  he  travelled  drove 
up  to  the  spot  where  the  little  pathway  turned  off  to  the 
cottage,  and  Jeanie  was  there  with  her  lantern  waiting  for 
him. 

"You've  no  a'  that  luggage,  Maister  Tony  ?  "  cried  she, 
as  the  man  deposited  the  fourth  trunk  on  the  road. 

"How's  my  mother?"  asked  he,  impatiently,  —  "is  she 
well  2" 

"Why  wouldn't  she  be  weel,  and  hearty  too?"  said  the 
girl,  who  rather  felt  the  question  as  savoring  of  ingratitude, 
seeing  what  blessings  of  fortune  had  been  showered  upon 
them. 


538  TONY  BUTLER. 

As  he  walked  hurriedly  along,  Jeanie  trotted  at  his  side, 
telling  him,  in  broken  and  disjointed  sentences,  the  events 
of  the  place,  —  the  joy  of  the  whole  neighborhood  on  hear- 
ing of  his  new  wealth;  their  hopes  that  he  might  not  leave 
that  part  of  the  country;  what  Mrs.  Blackie  of  Craigs  Mills 
said  at  Mrs.  Dumphy's  christening,  when  she  gave  the  name 
of  Tony  to  the  baby,  and  wouldn't  say  Anthony;  and  how 
Dr.  M'Caudlish  improved  the  occasion  for  "twa  good  hours, 
wi'  mair  text  o'  Scripture  than  wad  make  a  Sabbath-day's 
discourse;  and  ech,  Maister  Tony,  it's  a  glad  heart  I'll 
hae  o'  it  all,  if  I  could  only  think  that  you  '11  no  be  going  to 
keep  a  man  creature,  —  a  sort  of  a  butler  like;  there  's  no 
such  wastefu'  bodies  in  the  world  as  they,  and  wanting 
mair  ceremonies  than  the  best  gentleman  in  the  land." 

Before  Tony  had  finished  assuring  her  that  no  change  in 
the  household  should  displace  herself,  they  had  reached  the 
little  wicket;  his  mother,  as  she  stood  at  the  door,  caught 
the  sound  of  his  voice,  rushed  out  to  meet  him,  and  was 
soon  clasped  in  his  arms. 

"It's  more  happiness  than  I  hoped  for, — more,  far 
more,"  was  all  she  could  say,  as  she  clung  to  him.  Her 
next  words  were  uttered  in  a  cry  of  joy,  when  the  light  fell 
full  upon  him  in  the  doorway,  — "you  're  just  your  father, 
Tony;  it 's  your  own  father's  self  I  see  standing  before  me, 
if  you  had  not  so  much  hair  over  your  face." 

"I'll  soon  get  rid  of  that,  mother,  if  you  dislike  it." 

"Let  it  be,  Master  Tony, — let  it  be,"  cried  Jeanie; 
"though  it  frightened  me  a  bit  at  first,  it 's  no  so  bad  when 
one  gets  used  to  it." 

Though  Mrs.  Butler  had  determined  to  make  Tony  relate 
every  event  that  took  place  from  the  day  he  left  her,  in 
regular  narrative  order,  nothing  could  be  less  connected, 
nothing  less  consecutive,  than  the  incidents  he  recounted. 
Now  it  would  be  some  reminiscence  of  his  messenger  days, 
—  of  his  meeting  with  that  glorious  Sir  Joseph,  who  treated 
him  so  handsomely;  then  of  that  villain  who  stole  his  de- 
spatches ;  of  his  life  as  a  rag-merchant,  or  his  days  with 
Garibaldi.  Rory,  too,  was  remembered;  and  he  related  to 
his  mother  the  pious  fraud  by  which  he  had  transferred  to 
his  humble  follower  the  promotion  Garibaldi  had  bestowed 
upon  himself. 


TONY  AT  HOME   AGAIN.  539 

"He  well  deserved  it,  and  more;  he  carried  me,  when  I 
was  wounded,  through  the  orchard  at  Melazzo  on  his  back, 
and  though  struck  with  a  bullet  himself,  never  owned  he  was 
hit  till  he  fell  on  the  grass  beside  me,  —  a  grand  fellow  that, 
mother,  though  he  never  learned  to  read."  And  there  was 
a  something  of  irony  in  his  voice  as  he  said  this,  that 
showed  how  the  pains  of  learning  still  rankled  in  his  mind. 

"And  you  never  met  the  Lyles?  How  strange!"  ex- 
claimed she. 

"Yes,  I  met  Alice;  at  least,"  said  he,  stooping  down  to 
settle  the  log  on  the  fire,  "I  saw  her  the  last  evening  I  was 
at  Naples." 

"Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"There's  no  all.  I  met  her,  we  talked  together  for  half 
an  hour  or  so,  and  we  parted;  there  's  the  whole  of  it." 

"She  had  heard,  I  suppose,  of  your  good  fortune?" 

"Y^es,  Skeff  had  told  them  the  story  and,  T  take  it,  made 
the  most  of  our  wealth;  not  that  rich  people  like  the  Lyles 
would  be  much  impressed  by  our  fortune." 

"That  may  be  true,  Tony,  but  rich  folk  have  a  sympathy 
with  other  rich  folk,  and  they  're  not  very  wrong  in  liking 
those  whose  condition  resembles  their  own.  What  did  Alice 
say?  Did  she  give  you  some  good  advice  as  to  your  mode 
of  life?" 

"  Y"es,  plenty  of  that ;  she  rather  likes  advice-giving." 

"  She  was  always  a  good  friend  of  yours,  Tony.  I  mind 
well  when  she  used  to  come  here  to  hear  your  letters  read  to 
her.  She  ever  made  the  same  remark  :  '  Tony  is  a  fine  true- 
hearted  boy ;  and  when  he 's  moulded  and  shaped  a  bit  by 
the  pressure  of  the  world,  he  '11  grow  to  be  a  fine  true-hearted 
man.'" 

*'  It  was  very  gracious  of  her,  no  doubt,"  said  he,  with  a 
sharp,  short  tone;  "  and  she  was  good  enough  to  contribute 
a  little  to  that  self-same  '  pressure '  she  hoped  so  much 
from." 

His  mother  looked  at  him  to  explain  his  words,  but  he 
turned  his  head  away  and  was  silent. 

"  Tell  me  something  about  home,  mother.  How  are  the 
Stewarts?     Where  is  Dolly?" 

"  They  are  well,  and  Dolly  is  here  ;  and  a  dear  good  girl 


540  TONY  BUTLER. 

she  is.  Ah,  Tony!  if  you  knew  all  the  comfort  she  has 
been  to  me  in  your  absence,  —  coming  here  through  sleet 
and  snow  and  storm,  and  nursing  me  like  a  daughter." 

"  I  liked  her  better  till  I  learned  how  she  had  treated  that 
good- hearted  fellow  Sam  M'Gruder.  Do  you  know  how  she 
has  behaved  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  know  it  all.     I  read  her  letters,  every  one  of  them." 

"And  can  you  mean  that  you  defend  her  conduct?  " 

"  I  mean  that  if  she  were  to  marry  a  man  she  did  not  love, 
and  were  dishonest  enough  not  to  tell  him  so,  I  'd  not  at- 
tempt to  defend  her.     There's  what  I  mean,  Tony." 

"  Why  promise  him,  then,  — why  accept  him?  " 

"  She  never  did." 

*'  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  he,  holding  up  both  his  hands. 

'*I  know  what  I  say,  Tony.  It  was  the  doctor  answered 
the  letter  in  which  Mr.  M'Gruder  proposed  for  Dolly.  He 
said  that  he  could  not,  would  not,  use  any  influence  over 
his  daughter ;  but  that,  from  all  he  had  learned  of  Mr. 
M'Gruder's  character,  he  would  give  his  free  consent  to  the 
match." 

"  Well,  then,  Dolly  said  —  " 

''  Wait  a  bit,  I  am  coming  to  Dolly.  She  wrote  back  that 
she  was  sorry  he  had  not  first  written  to  herself,  and  she 
would  frankly  have  declared  that  she  did  not  wish  to  marry ; 
but  now,  as  he  had  addressed  her  father,  —  an  old  man  in 
failing  health,  anxious  above  all  things  about  what  was  to 
become  of  her  when  he  was  removed,  —  the  case  was  a  more 
difficult  one,  since  to  refuse  his  offer  was  to  place  herself  in 
opposition  to  her  father's  will,  —  a  thing  that  in  all  her  life 
had  never  happened.  '  You  will  see  from  this,'  said  she, 
'  that  I  could  not  bring  to  you  that  love  and  affection  which 
would  be  your  right,  were  I  only  to  marry  you  to  spare  my 
father's  anxieties.  You  ought  to  have  more  than  this  in 
your  wife,  and  I  cannot  give  you  more ;  therefore  do  not 
persist  in  this  suit,  or,  at  all  events,  do  not  press  it.' " 

*'But  I  remember  your  writing  me  word  that  Dolly  was 
only  waiting  till  I  left  M'Gruder's  house,  or  quitted  the 
neighborhood,  to  name  the  day  she  would  be  married.  How 
do  you  explain  that?  " 

"It  was  her  father  forced  her  to  write  that  letter:  his 


TONY  AT   HOME   AGAIN.  541 

health  was  failing,  and  bis  irritability  had  increased  to  that 
degree  that  at  times  we  were  almost  afraid  of  his  reason, 
Tony ;  and  I  mind  well  the  night  Dolly  came  over  to  show 
me  what  she  had  written.  She  read  it  in  that  chair  where 
you  are  sitting  now,  and  when  she  finished  she  fell  on  her 
knees,  and,  hiding  her  face  in  my  lap,  she  sobbed  as  if  her 
poor  heart  was  breaking." 

"  So,  in  fact,  she  was  always  averse  to  this  match?  " 

"  Always.  She  never  got  a  letter  from  abroad  that  I 
could  n't  have  told  it  by  her  red  eyes  and  swelled  eyelids, 
poor  lassie !  " 

"I  say,  'poor  fellow!'  mother;  for  I  declare  that  the 
man  who  marries  a  woman  against  her  will  has  the  worst  of 
it." 

''  No,  no,  Tony;  all  sorrows  fall  heaviest  on  the  helpless. 
When  at  last  the  time  came  that  she  could  bear  no  more, 
she  rallied  her  courage  and  told  her  father  that  if  she  were 
to  marry  M'Gruder  it  would  be  the  misery  of  her  whole  life. 
He  took  it  very  ill  at  first ;  he  said  some  very  cruel  things  to 
her ;  and,  indeed,  it  was  only  after  seeing  how  I  took  the 
lassie's  side,  and  approved  of  all  she  had  done,  that  he 
yielded  and  gave  way.  But  he  is  n't  what  he  used  to  be, 
Tony.  Old  age,  they  say,  makes  people  sometimes  sterner 
and  harder.  A  grievous  thing  to  think  of,  that  we  'd  be 
more  worldly  just  when  the  world  was  slipping  awa}^  beneath 
us;  and  so  what  do  you  think  he  does?  The  same  day  that 
Dolly  writes  that  letter  to  M'Gruder,  he  makes  her  write  to 
Dr.  M'Candlish  to  say  that  she  'd  take  a  situation  as  a  gov- 
erness with  a  family  going  to  India  which  the  doctor  men- 
tioned was  open  to  any  well-qualified  young  person  like 
herself.  '  Ye  canna  say  that  your  "  heart  will  be  broke  wi* 
treachery  "  here,  lassie,'  said  her  father,  jeering  at  what  she 
said  m  her  tears  about  the  marriage." 

*'  Y"ou  oughtn't  to  suffer  this,  mother;  you  ought  to  offer 
Dolly  a  home  here  with  yourself." 

"  It  was  what  I  was  thinking  of.  Tony ;  but  I  did  n't  like 
to  take  any  step  in  it  till  I  saw  you  and  spoke  to  you." 

"Do  it,  by  all  means,  —  do  it  to-morrow." 

''  Not  to-morrow,  Tony,  nor  even  the  next  day ;  for  Dolly 
and  the  doctor  left  this  to  pass  a  few  days  with  the  M'Cand- 


542  TONY  BUTLER. 

lishes  at  Articlave,  and  they  '11  not  be  back  before  Saturday , 
but  I  am  so  glad  that  you  like  the  plan,  —  so  glad  that  it 
came  from  yourself  too." 

"It's  the  first  bit  of  pleasure  our  new  wealth  has  given 
us,   mother ;   may  it  be  a  good  augury !  " 

"  That 's  a  heathenish  word,  Tony,  and  most  unsuited  to 
be  used  in  thankfulness  for  God's  blessings." 

Tony  took  the  rebuke  in  good  part,  and,  to  change  the 
topic,  laughingly  asked  if  she  thought  Garibaldiaus  never 
were  hungry,  for  she  had  said  nothing  of  supper  since  he 
came. 

"  Jeanie  has  been  in  three  times  to  tell  you  it  was  ready, 
and  the  last  time  she  said  she  'd  come  no  more ;  but  come, 
and  we  '11  see  what  there 's  for  us." 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

SKEFF   DAMER's    LAST    "  PRIVATE    AND    CONFIDENTIAL." 

After  some  four  or  five  days  passed  almost  like  a  dream  — 
for  while  he  stood  in  the  midst  of  old  familiar  objects,  all 
Tony's  thoughts  as  to  the  future  were  new  and  strange  — 
there  came  a  long  letter  from  Skeff  Darner,  announcing  his 
approaching  marriage  with  Bella,  —  the  "  dear  old  woman  of 
Tilney"  having  behaved  "beautifully."  "Short  as  the 
time  has  been  since  you  left  this,  my  brave  Tony,  great 
events  have  occurred.  The  King  has  lost  his  throne,  and 
Skeff  Damer  has  gained  an  estate.  I  would  have  saved  him, 
for  I  really  like  the  Queen ;  but  that  his  obstinacy  is  such, 
the  rescue  would  have  only  been  a  reprieve,  not  a  pardon. 
Sicily  I  meant  for  us,  —  I  mean  for  England,  —  myself  to  be 
the  Viceroy.  The  silver  mines  at  Stromboli  have  never  been 
worked  since  the  time  of  Tiberius ;  they  contain  untold 
wealth ;  and  as  to  coral  fishery,  I  have  obtained  statistics 
will  make  your  teeth  water.  I  can  show  you  my  calcula- 
tions in  hard  figures,  that  in  eight  years  and  four  months  I 
should  be  the  richest  man  in  Europe,  — able  to  purchase  the 
soil  of  the  island  out-and-out,  if  the  British  Government  were 
stupid  enough  not  to  see  that  they  ought  to  establish  me  and 
my  dynasty  there.  These  are  now  but  visions,  —  grand  and 
glorious  visions,  it  is  true,  —  and  dearest  Bella  sheds  tears 
when  I  allude  to  them. 

"  I  have  had  a  row  with  '  the  Office ;  *  they  blame  me  for 
the  downfall  of  the  monarchy,  but  they  never  told  me  to 
save  it.  To  3^ou  I  may  make  the  confession,  it  was  the  two 
days  T  passed  at  Cava  cost  this  Bourbon  his  crown.  Not 
that  I  regret,  my  dear  Tony,  this  tribute  to  friendship. 
During  that  interval,  as  Caraffa  expresses  it,  they  were 
paralyzed.     'Where  is  Damer?'     'Who  has  seen  Skeff?' 


544  TONY  BUTLER. 

*  What  has  become  of  him  ? '  '  With  whom  is  he  nego- 
tiating ? '  were  the  questions  on  every  side  ;  and  in  the  very 
midst  of  the  excitement,  back  comes  the  fellow  M'Caskey, 
the  little  fiery-faced  individual  you  insisted  in  your  raving 
on  calling  my  '  godfather,'  and  declares  that  I  am  in  the 
camp  of  the  Garibaldians.  and  making  terms  and  stipulations 
with  the  General  himself.  The  Queen-Mother  went  off  in 
strong  hysterics  when  she  heard  it ;  the  King  never  uttered 
a  word, — has  never  spoken  since,  —  and  the  dear  Queen 
merely  said,   '  Damer  will  never  betray  us.' 

''These  particulars  I  learned  from  Francardi.  Meanwhile 
Garibaldi,  seeing  the  immense  importance  of  my  presence 
at  his  head-quarters,  pushes  on  for  the  capital,  and  enters 
Naples,  as  he  gives  out,  with  the  concurrence  and  approval 
of  England !  You  will,  I  have  no  doubt,  hear  another  ver- 
sion of  this  event.  Y"ou  will  be  told  bushels  of  lies  about 
heroic  daring  and  frantic  popular  enthusiasm.  To  your 
friendly  breast  I  commit  the  truth,  never  to  be  revealed, 
however,  except  to  a  remote  posterity. 

"One  other  confession,  and  I  have  done, —  done  with 
politics  forever.  Y^ou  will  hear  of  Garibaldi  as  a  brave, 
straightforward,  simple-minded,  unsuspectful  man,  hating 
intrigues  of  all  kinds.  This  is  totally  wrong.  With  all 
his  courage,  it  is  as  nothing  to  his  craft.  He  is  the  deepest 
politician,  and  the  most  subtle  statesman  in  Europe,  and, 
to  my  thinking,  —  mind,  it  is  my  estimate  I  give  you,  — 
more  of  Machiavelli  than  any  man  of  his  day.  Bear  this  in 
mind,  and  keep  your  eye  on  him  in  future.  We  had  not 
been  five  minutes  together  till  each  of  us  had  read  the  other. 
We  were  the  two  '  Augurs '  of  the  Latin  satirist,  and  if  we 
did  n't  laugh,  we  exchanged  a  recognition  just  as  significant. 
I  ought  to  tell  you  that  he  is  quite  frantic  at  my  giving  up 
political  life,  and  he  says  that  my  retirement  will  make 
Cavour's  fortune,  for  there  is  no  other  man  left  fit  to  meet 
him.  There  was  not  a  temptation,  not  a  bribe,  he  did  not 
throw  out  to  induce  me  to  withhold  my  resignation;  and 
when  he  found  that  personal  advantages  had  no  weight 
with  me,  he  said,  '  Mind  my  words.  Monsieur  Damer;  the 
day  will  come  when  you  will  regret  this  retirement.  When 
you  will  see  the  great  continent  of  Europe  convulsed  from 


DAMER'S  LAST  "PRIVATE  AND  CONFIDENTIAL."      545 

one  end  to  the  other,  and  yourself  no  longer  in  the  posi- 
tion to  influence  the  course  of  events,  and  guide  the  popular 
will,  you  will  bitterly  regret  this  step.'  But  I  know  myself 
better.  What  could  the  Peerage,  what  could  the  Garter, 
what  could  a  seat  in  the  Cabinet  do  for  me?  I  have  been 
too  long  and  too  much  behind  the  scenes  to  be  dazzled  by 
the  blaze  of  the  'spectacle.'  I  w^ant  repose,  a  home,  the 
charms  of  that  domestic  life  which  are  denied  to  the  mere 
man  of  ambition.  Bella,  indeed,  has  her  misgivings,  that 
to  live  without  greatness  —  greatness  in  action,  and  great- 
ness to  come  —  will  be  a  sore  trial  to  me;  but  I  tell  her,  as  I 
tell  you,  my  dear  friend,  that  it  is  exactly  the  men  who,  like 
myself,  have  moved  events,  and  given  the  spring  to  the 
greatest  casualties,  who  are  readiest  to  accept  tranquillity 
and  peace  as  the  first  of  blessings.  Under  the  shade  of  my 
old  elms  at  Tilney  —  I  may  call  them  mine  already,  as 
Reeves  and  Tucker  are  drawing  out  the  deeds  —  I  will  write 
my  memoirs,  —  one  of  the  most  interesting  contributions, 
when  it  appears,  that  history  has  received  for  the  last  cen- 
tury. I  can  afford  to  be  fearless,  and  I  will  be;  and  if  cer- 
tain noble  lords  go  down  to  posterity  with  tarnished  honor 
and  diminished  fame,  they  can  date  the  discovery  to  the  day 
when  they  disparaged  a  Darner. 

"Now  for  a  minor  key.  We  led  a  very  jolly  life  on 
board  the  'Talisman;'  only  needing  yourself  to  make  it 
perfect.  My  Lady  L.  was  '  out  of  herself  '  at  your  not  com- 
ing; indeed,  since  your  accession  to  fortune,  she  has  dis- 
covered some  very  amiable  and  some  especially  attractive 
qualities  in  your  nature,  and  that  if  you  fall  amongst  the 
right  people  —  I  hope  you  appreciate  the  sort  of  accident 
intended  —  you  will  become  a  very  superior  article.  Bella 
is,  as  always,  a  sincere  friend;  and  though  Alice  says  noth- 
ing, she  does  not  look  ungrateful  to  him  who  speaks  well 
of  3^ou.  Bella  has  told  me  in  confidence  —  mind,  in  confi- 
dence—  that  all  is  broken  off  between  Alice  and  you,  and 
says  it  is  all  the  better  for  both;  that  you  were  a  pair  of 
intractable  tempers,  and  that  the  only  chance  for  either  of 
you  is  to  be  allied  to  somebody  or  something  that  would 
consent  to  think  you  perfection,  and  yet  manage  you  as  if 
you  were  not  what  is  called  '  absolute  wisdom. ' 

35 


546  TONY  BUTLER. 

"Bella  also  said,  '  Tony  might  have  had  some  chance  with 
Alice  had  he  remained  poor; '  the  opposition  of  her  family 
would  have  had  its  weight  in  influencing  her  in  his  favor; 
but  now  that  he  is  a  prize  in  the  matrimonial  lottery,  she 
is  quite  ready  to  see  any  defects  he  ma}'  have,  and  set  them 
against  all  that  would  be  said  in  his  behalf.  Last  of  all, 
she  likes  her  independence  as  a  widow.  I  half  suspected 
that  Maitland  had  been  before  you  in  her  favor;  but  Bella 
says  not.  By  the  way,  it  was  the  fortune  that  has  fallen  to 
you  Maitland  had  always  expected ;  Sir  Omerod  having  mar- 
ried, or,  as  some  say,  not  married,  his  mother,  and  adopted 
Maitland,  who  contrived  to  spend  about  eighty  thousand  of 
the  old  man's  savings  in  ten  or  eleven  years.  He  is  a 
strange  fellow,  and  mysterious  to  the  last.  Since  the  over- 
throw of  the  Government,  we  have  been  reduced  to  ask  pro- 
tection to  the  city  from  the  secret  society  called  the  Camorra, 
a  set  of  Neapolitan  Thugs,  who  cut  throats  in  reciprocity; 
and  it  was  by  a  guard  of  these  wretches  that  we  were  escorted 
to  the  ship's  boats  when  we  embarked.  Bella  swears  that 
the  chief  of  the  gang  was  no  other  than  Maitland,  greatly 
disguised,  of  course;  but  she  saj's  that  she  recognized  him 
by  his  teeth  as  he  smiled  accidentall}'.  It  would  be,  of 
course,  at  the  risk  of  his  life  he  was  there,  since  an^'thing 
that  pertained  to  the  Court  would,  if  discovered,  be  torn  to 
fragments  by  the  people.  My  '  godfather '  had  a  narrow 
escape  on  Tuesday  last.  He  rode  through  the  Toledo  in  full 
uniform,  amidst  all  the  people,  who  were  satisfied  with  hiss- 
ing him  instead  of  treating  him  to  a  stiletto,  and  the  rascal 
grinned  an  insolent  defiance  as  he  went,  and  said,  as  he 
gained  the  Piazza,  '  You  're  not  such  bad  canaille^  after  all ; 
I  have  seen  worse  in  Mexico.'  He  went  on  board  a  de- 
spatch-boat in  the  bay,  and  ordered  the  commander  to  take 
him  to  Gaeta;  and  the  oddest  of  all  is,  the  officer  complied, 
overpowered,  as  better  men  have  been,  by  the  scoundrel's 
impertinence.  Oh,  Tony,  to  you^  —  to  yourself,  to  your 
heart's  most  secret  closet,  fast  to  be  locked,  when  you  have 
my  secret  inside  of  it, — to  you,  I  own,  that  the  night  I 
passed  in  that  wretch's  company  is  the  darkest  page  of  my 
existence.  He  overwhelmed  me  with  insult,  and  I  had  to 
bear  it,  just  as  I  should  have  to  bear  the  buffeting  of  the 


DAMER'S  LAST  "PRIVATE  AND  CONFIDENTIAL."      547 

waves  if  I  bud  been  thrown  into  the  sea.  I  'd  have  stran- 
gled him  then  and  there  if  I  was  able,  but  the  brute  would 
have  torn  me  limb  from  limb  if  I  attempted  it.  Time  may 
diminish  the  acuteness  of  this  suffering,  but  I  confess  to 
you,  up  to  this,  when  I  think  of  what  I  went  through,  my 
humiliation  overpowers  me.  I  hope  fervently  you  may  meet 
him  one  of  these  days.  You  have  a  little  score  of  your  own, 
I  suspect,  to  settle  with  him ;  at  all  events,  if  the  day  of 
reckoning  comes,  include  my  balance,  and  trust  to  my 
eternal  gratitude. 

"Here  have  come  Alice  and  Bella  to  make  me  read  out 
what  I  have  written  to  you ;  of  course  I  have  objected. 
This  is  a  '  strictly  private  and  confidential.'  What  we  do 
for  the  blue-books.  Master  Tony,  we  do  in  a  different 
fashion.  Alice,  perhaps,  suspects  the  reasons  of  my  reserve, 
— '  appreciates  my  reticence,'  as  we  say  in  the  '  Line.' 

"At  all  events,  she  tells  me  to  make  you  write  to  her. 
'  "When  Tony, '  said  she,  '  has  found  out  that  he  was  only  in 
love  with  me  because  I  made  him  better  known  to  his  own 
heart,  and  induced  him  to  develop  some  of  his  own  fine 
qualities,  he  '11  begin  to  see  that  we  may  and  ought  to  be 
excellent  friends ;  and  some  day  or  other,  when  there  shall 
be  a  Mrs.  Tony,  if  she  be  a  sensible  woman,  she  '11  not 
object  to  their  friendship.'  She  said  this  so  measuredly 
and  calmly  that  I  can  almost  trust  myself  to  say  I  have 
reported  her  word  for  word.  It  reads  to  me  like  a  very 
polite  conge.     What  do  you  say  to  it? 

"The  Lyles  are  going  back  at  the  end  of  the  month,  but 
Alice  says  she  '11  winter  at  Cairo.  There  is  an  insolent  in- 
dependence about  these  widows,  Tony,  that  adds  one  more 
terror  to  death.  I  protest  I  'd  like  to  haunt  the  woman  that 
could  employ  her  freedom  of  action  in  this  arbitrary  manner. 

"Dearest  Bella  insists  on  your  coming  to  our  wedding;  it 
will  come  off  at  Tilney,  strictly  private.  None  but  our 
nearest  relatives,  not  even  the  Duke  of  Dullchester,  nor  any 
of  the  Howards.  They  will  feel  it;  but  it  can't  be  helped, 
I  suppose.  Cincinnatus  had  to  cut  his  connections,  too, 
when  he  took  to  horticulture.  You,  however,  must  not 
desert  me;  and  if  you  cannot  travel  without  Rory,  bring 
him  with  you. 


548  TOXY  BUTLER. 

"I  am  impatient  to  get  away  from  this,  and  seek  the 
safety  of  some  obscure  retreat;  for  I  know  the  persecution 
I  shall  be  exposed  to  to  withdraw  my  resignation  and  re- 
main. To  this  I  will  never  consent.  I  give  it  to  you  under 
my  hand,  Tony,  and  I  give  it  the  more  formally,  as  I  desire 
it  may  be  historic.  I  know  well  the  whining  tone  they  will 
assume, —  just  as  well  as  if  I  saw  it  before  me  in  a  despatch. 
'  What  are  we  to  tell  the  Queen  ?  '  wdll  be  the  cry.  My  dig- 
nified answer  will  be,  '  Tell  her  that  you  made  it  impossible 
for  one  of  the  ablest  of  her  servants  to  hold  his  office  with 
dignity.  Tell  her,  too,  that  Skeff  Damer  has  done  enough 
for  honor;  he  now  seeks  to  do  something  for  happiness.' 
Back  to  office  again  I  will  not  go.  Five  years  and  two 
mouths  of  unpaid  services  have  I  given  to  my  country,  and 
England  is  not  ashamed  to  accept  the  unrewarded  labors  of 
her  gifted  sons !  My  very  '  extraordinaries '  have  been 
cavilled  at.  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  they  have  asked 
me  for  vouchers  for  the  champagne  and  lobsters  with  which 
I  have  treated  some  of  the  most  dangerous  regicides  of 
Europe,  —  men  whose  language  would  make  your  hair  stand 
on  end,  and  whose  sentiments  actually  curdled  the  blood  as 
one  listened  to  them. 

"The  elegant  hospitalities  which  I  dispensed,  in  the  hope 
—  vain  hope!  —  of  inducing  them  to  believe  that  the  social 
amenities  of  life  had  extended  to  our  insular  position,  — 
these  the  Office  declares  they  have  nothing  to  do  with;  and 
insolently  asks  me,  '  Are  there  any  other  items  of  my  pleas- 
m*e  whose  cost  I  should  wish  to  submit  to  Parliament? ' 

"Ask  Talleyrand,  ask  Metternich,  ask  any  of  our  own 
people,  — B.,  or  S.,  or  H.  —  since  when  have  cookery  and 
the  ballet  ceased  to  be  the  lawful  weapons  of  diplomacy? 

"  The  day  of  reckoning  for  all  this,  my  dear  Tony,  is  com- 
ing. At  first  I  thought  of  making  some  of  my  friends  in 
the  House  move  for  the  corrrespondence  between  F.  O.  and 
myself,  —  the  Damer  papers  they  would  be  called,  in  the 
language  of  the  public  journals,  —  and  thus  bring  on  a 
smashing  debate.  Reconsideration,  however,  showed  me 
that  my  memoirs,  '  Five  Years  of  a  Diplomatist  on  Service,* 
would  be  the  more  fitting  place;  and  in  the  pages  of  those 
volumes  you  will  find  revelations  more  astounding,  official 


DAMER'S  LAST  "PRIVATE  AND  CONFIDENTIAL."      549 

knaveries  more  nefarious,  and  political  intrigues  more 
Machiavellian,  than  the  wildest  imagination  for  "wickedness 
has  ever  conceived.  What  wofild  they  not  have  given 
rather  than  see  such  an  exposure?  I  almost  think  I  will 
call  my  book  '  "Extraordinaries  "  of  a  Diplomatist.'  Sen- 
sational and  taking  both,  that  title!  You  mustn't  be  pro- 
voked if,  in  one  of  the  lighter  chapters  —  there  must  be  light 
chapters  —  I  stick  in  that  little  adventure  of  3'our  own  with 
my  godfather." 

"Confound  the  fellow!  "  muttered  Tony,  and  with  such  a 
hearty  indignation  that  his  mother  heard  him  from  the 
adjoining  room,  and  hastened  in  to  ask  who  or  what  had 
provoked  him.  Tony  blundered  out  some  sort  of  evasive 
reply,  and  then  said,  "AVas  it  Dr.  Stewart's  voice  I  heard 
there  a  few  minutes  ago?" 

"Yes,  Tony;  he  called  in  as  he  was  passing  to  Coleraine 
on  important  business.  The  poor  man  is  much  agitated  by 
an  offer  that  has  just  been  made  him  to  go  far  away  over  the 
seas,  and  finish  his  days,  one  may  call  it,  at  the  end  of  the 
world.  Some  of  this  country  folk,  it  seems,  who  settled  in 
New  Zealand,  at  a  place  the}^  call  AYellington  Gap,  had  in- 
vited him  to  go  out  there  and  minister  among  them ;  and 
though  he  's  not  minded  to  make  the  change  at  his  advanced 
time  of  life,  nor  disposed  to  lay  his  bones  in  a  far-away 
land,  yet  for  Dolly's  sake  —  poor  Dolly,  who  will  be  left 
friendless  and  homeless  when  he  is  taken  awaj^  —  he  thinks, 
maybe,  it's  his  duty  to  accept  the  offer;  and  so  he's  gone 
into  the  town  to  consult  Dr.  M'Candlish  and  the  elder  Mr. 
M'Elwain,  and  a  few  other  sensible  men." 

"Why  won't  Dolly  marry  the  man  she  ought  to  marry,  — 
a  good  true-hearted  fellow,  who  will  treat  her  well  and  be 
kind  to  her?     Tell  me  that,  mother."     ' 

"It  mauna  be,  — it  manna  be,"  said  the  old  lady,  who, 
when  much  moved,  frequently  employed  the  Scotch  dialect 
unconsciously. 

"Is  there  a  reason  for  her  conduct?" 

"There  is  a  reason,"  said  she,  firmly. 

"And  do  you  know  it?    Has  she  told  you  what  it  is?" 

"I'm  not  at  liberty  to  talk  over  this  matter  with  3'ou, 
Tony.  Whatever  I  know,  I  know  as  a  thing  confided  to  me 
in  honor." 


550  TOXY  BUTLER. 

''I  only  asked,  Was  the  reason  one  that  you  yourself  were 
satisfied  with?  " 

*'It  was,  and  is,"  replied  she,  gravely. 

"Do  you  think,  from  what  you  know,  that  Dolly  would 
listen  to  any  representations  I  might  make  her?  for  I  know 
M'Gruder  thoroughly,  and  can  speak  of  him  as  a  friend  likes 
to  speak." 

"Xo,  no,  Tony;  don't  do  iti  don't  do  it!  "  cried  she,  with 
a  degree  of  emotion  that  perfectly  amazed  him,  for  the  tears 
swam  in  her  eyes,  and  her  lips  trembled  as  she  spoke.  He 
stared  fixedly  at  her;  but  she  turned  away  her  head,  and  for 
some  minutes  neither  spoke. 

"Come,  mother,"  said  Tony,  at  last,  and  in  his  kindliest 
voice,  "you  have  a  good  head  of  your  own;  think  of  some 
way  to  prevent  the  poor  old  doctor  from  going  off  into 
exile."  ^ 

"How  could  we  help  him  that  he  would  not  object  to? " 

"What  if  you  were  to  hit  upon  some  plan  of  adopting 
Dolly?  You  have  long  loved  her  as  if  she  were  your  own 
daughter,  and  she  has  returned  your  affections." 

"That  she  has,"  muttered  the  old  lady,  as  she  wiped  her 
eyes. 

"What  use  is  this  new  wealth  of  ours  if  it  benefit  none  but 
ourselves,  mother?  Just  get  the  doctor  to  talk  it  all  over 
with  you,  and  say  to  him,  '  Have  no  fears  as  to  Dolly ;  she 
shall  never  be  forced  to  marry  against  her  inclinations,  — 
merely  for  support;  her  home  shall  be  here  with  us,  and 
she  shall  be  no  dependant,  neither.'  I'll  take  care  of 
that." 

"How  like  your  father  you  said  these  words,  Tony!  "  cried 
she,  looking  at  him  with  a  gaze  of  love  and  pride  together; 
"it  was  his  very  voice  too." 

"I  meant  to  have  spoken  to  her  on  poor  M'Gruder's  be- 
half, —  I  promised  him  I  would ;  but  if  you  tell  me  it  is  of 
no  use  —  " 

"I  tell  you  more,  Tony,  — I  tell  you  it  would  be  cruel;  it 
would  be  worse  than  cruel,"  cried  she,  eagerly. 

"Then  I  '11  not  do  it,  and  I  '11  write  to  him  to-day,  and  say 
so,  though.  Heaven  knows,  I  '11  be  sorely  puzzled  to  explain 
myself;  but  as  he  is  a  true  man,  he  '11  feel  that  I  have  done 


DAilER'S  LAST  '-PRIVATE  AN'D  CONFIDENTIAL."      551 

all  for  the  best,  and  that  if  I  have  not  served  his  cause  it 
has  not  been  for  any  lack  of  the  will!  " 

**If  you  wish  it,  Tony,  I  could  write  to  Mr.  M'Gruder 
myself.  A  letter  from  an  old  body  like  me  is  sometimes  a 
better  means  to  break  a  misfortune  than  one  from  a  younger 
hand.     Age  deals  more  naturally  with  sorrow,  perhaps." 

"You  will  be  doing  a  kind  thing,  my  dear  mother,"  said 
he,  as  he  drew  her  towards  him,  "and  to  a  good  fellow  who 
deserves  well  of  us." 

"I  want  to  thank  him,  besides,  for  his  kindness  and  care 
of  you,  Tony ;  so  just  write  his  address  for  me  there  on  that 
envelope,  and  I  '11  do  it  at  once." 

**I  'm  off  for  a  ramble,  mother,  till  dinner-time,"  said 
Tony,  taking  his  hat. 

"Are  you  going  up  to  the  Abbey,  Tony?" 

"No,"  said  he,  blushing  slightly. 

"Because,  if  you  had,  I'd  have  asked  you  to  fetch  me 
some  fresh  flowers.  Dolly  is  coming  to  dine  with  us,  and 
she  is  so  fond  of  seeing  flowers  on  the  centre  of  the  table." 

"Xo ;  I  have  nothing  to  do  at  the  Abbey.  I  'm  off  towards 
Portrush." 

"Why  not  go  over  to  the  Burnside  and  fetch  Dolly?  "  said 
she,  carelessly. 

"Perhaps  I  may,  — that  is.  if  I  should  find  myself  in  that 
quarter :  but  I  'm  first  of  all  bent  on  a  profound  piece  of 
thoughtfulness  or  a  good  smoke,  —  pretty  much  the  same 
thing  with  ?7ie,  I  believe.     So  good-bye  for  a  while." 

His  mother  looked  after  him  with  loving  eyes  till  the 
tears  dulled  them;  but  there  are  teare  which  fall  on  the 
affections  as  the  dew  falls  on  flowers,  and  these  were  of  that 
number. 

*'His  own  father, — his  own  father!"  muttered  she,  as 
she  followed  the  stalwart  figure  till  it  was  lost  in  the 
distance. 


CHAPTER   LXIIL 

AT    THE    COTTAGE    BESIDE    THE    CAUSEWAY, 

I  MUST  use  more  discretion  as  to  Mrs.  Butler's  correspond- 
ence than  I  have  employed  respecting  Skeff  Darner's. 
What  she  wrote  on  that  morning  is  not  to  be  recorded  here. 
It  will  be  enough  if  I  say  that  her  letter  was  not  alone  a 
kind  one,  but  that  it  thoroughly  convinced  him  who  read  it 
that  her  view  was  wise  and  true,  and  that  it  would  be  as 
useless  as  ungenerous  to  press  Dolly  further,  or  ask  for  that 
love  which  was  not  hers  to  give. 

It  was  a  rare  event  with  her  to  have  to  write  a  letter.  It 
was  not,  either,  a  very  easy  task ;  but  if  she  had  not  the  gift 
of  facile  expression,  she  had  another  still  better  for  her 
purpose,  —  an  honest  nature  steadfastly  determined  to 
perform  a  duty.  She  knew  her  subject,  too,  and  treated  it 
with  candor,  while  with  delicacy. 

While  she  wrote,  Tony  strolled  along,  puffing  his  cigar 
or  re-lighting  it,  for  it  was  always  going  out,  and  dreaming 
away  in  his  own  misty  fashion  over  things  past,  present, 
and  future,  till  really  the  actual  and  the  ideal  became  so 
thoroughly  commingled  he  could  not  well  distinguish  one 
from  the  other.  He  thought  —  he  knew,  indeed,  he  ought 
to  be  very  happy.  All  his  anxieties  as  to  a  career  and  a 
livelihood  ended,  he  felt  that  a  very  enjoyable  existence 
might  lie  before  him;  but  somehow,  — he  hoped  he  was  not 
ungrateful,  —  but  somehow  he  was  not  so  perfectly  happ}^ 
as  he  supposed  his  good  fortune  should  have  made  him. 

"Perhaps  it  will  come  later  on;  perhaps  when  I  am  active 
and  employed ;  perhaps  when  I  shall  have  learned  to  interest 
myself  in  the  things  money  brings  around  a  man ;  perhaps, 
too,  when  I  can  forget,  —  ay,  that  was  the  lesson  was  hard- 


AT  THE  COTTAGE  BESIDE  THE  CAUSEWAY.   553 

est  of  all."  All  these  passing  thoughts,  a  good  deal  dashed 
through  each  other,  scarcely  contributed  to  enlighten  his 
faculties ;  and  he  rambled  on  over  rocks  and  yellow  strand, 
up  hillsides,  and  through  fern-clad  valleys,  not  in  the  least 
mindful  of  whither  he  was  going. 

At  last  he  suddenly  halted,  and  saw  he  was  in  the  shrub- 
beries of  Lyle  Abbey,  his  steps  having  out  of  old  habit  taken 
the  one  same  path  they  had  followed  for  many  a  year.  The 
place  was  just  as  he  had  seen  it  last.  Trees  make  no  mar- 
vellous progress  in  the  north  of  Ireland,  and  a  longer 
absence  than  Tony's  would  leave  them  just  as  they  were 
before.  All  was  neat,  orderly,  and  well  kept ;  and  the  heaps 
of  dried  leaves  and  brushwood  ready  to  be  wheeled  away, 
stood  there  as  he  saw  them  when  he  last  walked  that  way 
with  Alice.  He  was  poor  then,  without  a  career,  or  almost 
a  hope  of  one;  and  yet  it  was  possible,  could  it  be  possible, 
that  he  was  happier  then  than  he  now  felt?  Was  it  that  love 
sufficed  for  all,  and  that  the  heart  so  filled  had  no  room  for 
other  thoughts  than  those  of  her  it  worshipped?  He  cer- 
tainly had  loved  her  greatly.  She,  —  she  alone  made  up 
that  world  in  which  he  had  lived.  Her  smile,  her  step,  her 
laugh,  her  voice, —  ay,  there  they  were,  all  before  him.  What 
a  dream  it  was !  Only  a  dream,  after  all ;  for  she  never  cared 
for  him.  She  had  led  him  on  to  love  her,  half  in  caprice, 
half  in  a  sort  of  compassionate  interest  for  a  poor  boy,  — 
boy  she  called  him,  —  to  whom  a  passion  for  one  above  him 
was  certain  to  elevate  and  exalt  him  in  his  own  esteem. 
"Very  kind,  doubtless,"  muttered  he,  "but  very  cruel  too. 
She  might  have  remembered  that  this  same  dream  was  to 
have  a  very  rough  awaking.  I  had  built  nearly  every  hope, 
upon  one,  and  that  one,  she  well  knew,  was  never  to  be 
realized.  It  might  not  have  been  the  most  gracious  way  to 
do  it,  but  I  declare  it  would  have  been  the  most  merciful,  to 
have  treated  me  as  her  mother  did,  who  snubbed  my  preten- 
sions at  once.  It  was  all  right  that  I  should  recognize  her 
superiority  over  me  in  a  hundred  waj^s;  but  perhaps  she 
should  not  have  kept  it  so  continually  in  mind,  as  a  sort  of 
barrier  against  a  warmer  feeling  for  me.  I  suppose  this  is 
the  fine-lady  view  of  the  matter.  This  is  the  theory  that 
young  fellows  are  to  be  civilized,  as  they  call  it,  by  a  pas- 


554  TONY  BUTLEK. 

sion  for  a  woman  who  is  to  amuse  herself  by  their  extrava- 
gances, and  then  ask  their  gratitude  for  having  deceived 
them. 

*'I'll  be  shot  if  I  am  grateful,"  said  he,  as  he  threw  his 
cigar  into  the  pond.  "I  'm  astonished  —  amazed  —  now  that 
it's  all  over"  (^here  his  voice  shook  a  little),  "that  my 
stupid  vanity  could  ever  have  led  me  to  think  of  her,  or  that 
I  ever  mistook  that  patronizing  way  she  had  towards  me  for 
more  than  good-nature.  But,  I  take  it,  there  are  scores  of 
fellows  who  have  had  the  selfsame  experiences.  Here  's  the 
seat  I  made  for  her,"  muttered  he,  as  he  came  in  front  of  a 
rustic  bench.  For  a  moment  a  savage  thought  crossed  him 
that  he  would  break  it  in  pieces,  and  throw  the  fragments 
into  the  lake,  —  a  sort  of  jealous  anger  lest  some  day  or  other 
she  might  sit  there  with  "another;"  but  he  restrained  him- 
self, and  said,  "Better  not;  better  let  her  see  that  her  civil- 
izing process  has  done  something,  and  that  though  I  have 
lost  my  game  I  can  bear  my  defeat  becomingly." 

He  began  to  wish  that  she  were  there  at  that  moment. 
Not  that  he  might  renew  his  vows  of  love,  or  repledge  his 
affection ;  but  to  show  her  how  calm  and  reasonable  —  ay, 
reasonable  was  her  favorite  word  —  he  could  be,  how  col- 
lectedly he  could  listen  to  her,  and  how  composedly  reply. 
He  strolled  up  to  the  entrance  door.  It  was  open.  The 
servants  were  busy  in  preparing  for  the  arrival  of  their 
masters,  who  were  expected  within  the  week.  All  were 
delighted  to  see  Master  Tony  again,  and  the  words  some- 
how rather  grated  on  his  ears.  It  was  another  reminder  of 
that  same  "boyhood"  he  bore  such  a  grudge  against.  "I 
am  going  to  have  a  look  out  of  the  small  drawing-room  win- 
dow, Mrs.  Hayles,"  said  he  to  the  housekeeper,  cutting  short 
her  congratulations,  and  hurrying  upstairs. 

It  was  true  he  went  up  for  a  view ;  but  not  of  the  coast- 
line to  Fairhead,  fine  as  it  was.  It  was  of  a  full-length 
portrait  of  Alice,  life-size,  by  Grant.  She  was  standing 
beside  her  horse,  —  the  Arab  Tony  trained  for  her.  A 
braid  of  her  hair  had  fallen,  and  she  was  in  the  act  of 
arranging  it,  while  one  hand  held  up  her  drooping  riding- 
dress.  There  was  that  in  the  air  and  attitude  that  bespoke 
a  certain  embarrassment  with  a  sense  of  humorous  enjoy- 


AT  THE  COTTAGE  BESIDE  THE   CAUSEWAY.       555 

ment  of  the  dilemma.  A  sketch  from  Hfe,  in  fact,  had  given 
the  idea  of  the  picture,  and  the  reality  of  the  incident  was 
unquestionable. 

Tony  blushed  a  deep  crimson  as  he  looked,  and  muttered, 
"The  very  smile  she  had  on  when  she  said  good-bye.  I 
wonder  I  never  knew  her  till  now." 

A  favorite  myrtle  of  hers  stood  in  the  window;  he  broke 
off  a  sprig  of  it,  and  placed  it  in  his  button-hole,  and  then 
slowly  passed  down  the  stairs  and  out  into  the  lawn.  "With 
very  sombre  thoughts  and  slow  steps  he  retraced  his  way  to 
the  cottage.  He  went  over  to  himself  much  of  his  past  life, 
and  saw  it,  as  very  young  men  will  often  in  such  retro- 
spects, far  less  favorably  as  regarded  himself  than  it  really 
was.  He  ought  to  have  done  —  Heaven  knows  what.  He 
ought  to  have  been  —  scores  of  things  which  he  never  was, 
perhaps  never  could  be.  At  all  events,  there  was  one  thing 
he  never  should  have  imagined,  that  Alice  Lyle  —  she  was 
Alice  Lyle  always  to  him  —  in  her  treatment  of  him  was 
ever  more  closely  drawn  towards  him  than  the  others  of 
her  family.  "It  was  simply  the  mingled  kindness  and 
caprice  of  her  nature  that  made  the  difference;  and  if  I 
had  n't  been  a  vain  fool,  I  'd  have  seen  it.  I  see  it  now, 
though ;  I  can  read  it  in  the  very  smile  she  has  in  her  pic- 
ture. To  be  sure  I  have  learned  a  good  deal  since  I  was 
here  last;  I  have  outgrown  a  good  many  illusions.  I  once 
imagined  this  dwarfed  and  stinted  scrub  to  be  a  wood.  I 
fancied  the  Abbey  to  be  like  a  royal  palace;  and  in  Sicily 
a  whole  battalion  of  ns  have  bivouacked  in  a  hall  that  led 
to  suites  of  rooms  without  number.  If  a  mere  glimpse  of 
the  world  could  reveal  such  astounding  truths,  what  might 
not  come  of  a  more  lengthened  experience?  " 

"How  tired  and  weary  you  look,  Tony!  "  said  his  mother, 
as  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair;  "have  you  overwalked 
yourself  ?  " 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  he,  with  a  half  smile.  "In  my 
poorer  days  I  thought  nothing  of  going  to  the  Abbey  and 
back  twice  —  I  have  done  it  even  thrice  —  in  one  day ;  but 
perhaps  this  weight  of  gold  I  carry  now  is  too  heavy  for  me." 

"I'd  like  to  see  you  look  more  grateful  for  your  good  for 
tune,  Tony,"  said  she,  gravely. 


556  TONY  BUTLER. 

"I'm  not  ungrateful,  mother;  but  up  to  this  I  have  not 
thought  much  of  the  matter.  I  suspect,  however,  I  was 
never  designed  for  a  life  of  ease  and  enjoyment.  Do  you 
remember  what  Dr.  Stewart  said  one  day?  — '  You  may  put 
a  weed  in  a  garden,  and  dig  round  it  and  water  it,  and  it 
will  only  grow  to  be  a  big  weed  after  all. '  " 

"I  hope  better  from  Tony,  —  far  better,"  said  she,  sharply. 
"Have  you  answered  McCarthy's  letter?  Have  you  arranged 
where  you  are  to  meet  the  lawyers  ?  " 

"I  have  said  in  Dublin.  They  couldn't  come  here, 
mother;  we  have  no  room  for  them  in  this  crib." 

"You  must  not  call  it  a  '  crib  '  for  ail  that.  It  sheltered 
your  father  once,  and  he  carried  a  very  high  head,  Tony." 

"And  for  that  very  reason,  dear  mother,  I'm  going  to 
make  it  our  own  home  henceforth,  — without  you'd  rather 
go  and  live  in  that  old  manor-house  on  the  Nore ;  they  tell 
me  it  is  beautiful." 

"It  was  there  your  father  was  born,  and  I  long  to  see  it," 
said  she,  with  emotion.  "Who's  that  coming  in  at  the 
gate,  Tony  ? " 

"It  is  Dolly,"  said  he,  rising,  and  going  to  the  door  to 
meet  her. 

"My  dear  Dolly,"  cried  he,  as  he  embraced  her,  and  kissed 
her  on  either  cheek;  "this  brings  me  back  to  old  times  at 
once." 

If  it  was  nothing  else,  the  total  change  in  Tony's  appear- 
ance abashed  her,  the  bronzed  and  bearded  man,  looking 
many  years  older  than  he  was,  seemed  little  like  the  Tony 
she  had  seen  last;  and  so  she  half  shrank  back  from  his 
embrace,  and,  with  a  flushed  cheek  and  almost  constrained 
manner,  muttered  some  words  of  recognition. 

"How  well  you  are  looking,"  said  he,  staring  at  her,  as 
she  took  off  her  bonnet,  "and  the  nice  glossy  hair  has  all 
grow^n  again,  and  I  vow  it  is  brighter  and  silkier  than 
ever." 

"What's  all  this  flattery  about  bright  een  and  silky  locks 
I'm  listening  to?"  said  the  old  lady,  coming  out  laughing 
into  the  hall. 

"It's  Master  Tony  displaying  his  foreign  graces  at  my 
expense,  ma'am,"  said  Dolly,  with  a  smile. 


AT  THE  COTTAGE  BESIDE  THE   CAUSEWAY.       557 

*'T^^ould  you  have  known  him  again,  Dolly?  AYoiild  you 
have  thought  that  great  hairy  creature  there  was  our  Tony  ?  " 

"I  think  he  is  changed,  —  a  good  deal  changed,"  said 
Dolly,  without  looking  at  him. 

"I  did  n't  quite  like  it  at  first;  but  I 'm  partly  getting 
used  to  it  now ;  and  though  the  Colonel  never  wore  a  beard 
on  his  upper  lip,  Tony's  more  like  him  now  than  ever." 
The  old  lady  continued  to  ramble  on  about  the  points  of 
resemblance  between  the  father  and  son,  and  where  certain 
traits  of  manner  and  voice  were  held  in  common;  and  though 
neither  Tony  nor  Dolly  gave  much  heed  to  her  words,  they 
were  equally  grateful  to  her  for  talking. 

"And  where  's  the  doctor,  Dolly?  Are  we  not  to  see  him 
at  dinner? " 

"Not  to-day,  ma'am;  he's  gone  over  to  M'Laidlaw's  to 
make  some  arrangements  about  this  scheme  of  ours,  —  the 
banishment,  he  calls  it." 

"And  is  it  possible,  Dolh^  that  he  can  seriously  contem- 
plate such  a  step  ?  "  asked  Tony,  gravely. 

"Yes;  and  very  seriously  too." 

"And  you,  Dolly;  what  do  you  say  to  it?" 

*'I  say  to  it  what  I  have  often  said  to  a  difficulty,  what 
the  old  Scotch  adage  saj^s  of  '  the  stout  heart  to  the  stey 
brae.'" 

"And  you  might  have  found  more  comforting  words, 
lassie,  — bow  the  winds  can  be  tempered  to  the  shorn  lamb," 
said  the  old  lady,  almost  rebukefully;  and  Dolly  drooped 
her  head  in  silence. 

"I  think  it's  a  bad  scheme,"  said  Tony,  boldly,  and  as 
though  not  hearing  his  mother's  remark.  "For  a  man  at 
the  doctor's  age  to  go  to  the  other  end  of  the  globe,  to  live 
in  a  new  land,  and  make  new  friendships  at  his  time  of  life, 
is,  I'm  sure,  a  mistake." 

"That  supposes  that  we  have  a  choice;  but  my  father 
thinks  we  have  no  choice." 

"I  cannot  see  that.  I  cannot  see  that  what  a  man  has 
borne  for  five-and-thirty  or  forty  years  —  he  has  been  that 
long  at  the  Burnside  —  I  believe  he  can  endure  still  longer. 
I  must  have  a  talk  with  him  myself  over  it."  And  uncon- 
sciously —  quite    unconsciously  —  Tony    uttered    the    last 


558  TONY  BUTLER. 

words  with  a  bigh-sounding  importance,  so  certain  is  it  that 
in  a  man's  worldly  wealth  there  is  a  store  of  self-confidence 
that  no  mere  qualities  of  head  or  heart  can  ever  supply; 
and  Dolly  almost  smiled  at  the  assured  tone  and  the  confi- 
dent manner  of  her  former  playfellow. 

"My  father  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  Tony,  —  he  wants  to 
hear  all  about  your  campaigns ;  he  was  trying  two  nights  ago 
to  follow  you  on  the  map,  but  it  was  such  a  bad  one  he  had 
to  give  up  the  attempt." 

"I'll  give  you  mine,"  cried  the  old  lady, — "the  map 
Tony  brought  over  to  myself.  I  '11  no  just  give  it,  but  I  '11 
lend  it  to  you;  and  there's  a  cross  wherever  there  was  a 
battle,  and  a  red  cross  wherever  Tony  was  wounded." 

"Pooh,  pooh,  mother!  don't  worry  Dolly  about  these 
things ;  she  'd  rather  hear  of  pleasanter  themes  than  battles 
and  battle-fields.  And  here  is  one  already,  —  Jeanie  says, 
*  dinner.'  " 

"Where  did  you  find  your  sprig  of  myrtle  at  this  time?" 
asked  Dolly,  as  Tony  led  her  in  to  dinner. 

"I  got  it  at  the  Abbey.  I  strolled  up  there  to-day,"  said 
he,  in  a  half-confusion.     "Will  you  have  it?" 

"No,"  said  she,  curtly. 

"Neither  will  I,  then,"  cried  he,  tearing  it  out  of  his 
button-hole  and  throwing  it  away. 

What  a  long  journey  in  life  can  be  taken  in  the  few  steps 
from  the  drawing-room  to  the  dinner-table ! 


CHAPTER   LXIV. 

THE    END. 

As  Dr.  Stewart  had  many  friends  to  consult  and  many  visits 
to  make,  —  some  of  them,  as  he  imagined,  farewell  ones,  — 
Dolly  was  persuaded,  but  not  without  difficulty,  to  take  up 
her  residence  at  the  cottage  till  she  should  be  able  to  return 
home.  And  a  very  pleasant  week  it  was.  To  the  old  lady 
it  was  almost  perfect  happiness.  She  had  her  dear  Tony 
back  with  her  after  all  his  dangers  and  escapes,  safe  and 
sound,  and  in  such  spirits  as  she  had  never  seen  him  before. 
Not  a  cloud,  not  a  shadow,  now  ever  darkened  his  bright 
face ;  all  was  good-humor,  and  thoughtful  kindness  for  her- 
self and  for  Dolly. 

And  poor  Dolly,  too,  with  some  anxious  cares  at  her  heart, 
—  a  load  that  would  have  crushed  many,  —  bore  up  so  well 
that  she  looked  as  cheery  as  the  others,  and  entered  into  all 
the  plans  that  Tony  formed  about  his  future  house,  and 
his  gardens  and  stables,  as  though  many  a  hundred  leagues 
of  ocean  were  not  soon  to  roll  between  her  and  the  spots  she 
traced  so  eagerly  on  the  paper.  One  evening  they  sat  even 
later  than  usual.  Tony  had  induced  Dolly,  who  was  very 
clever  with  her  pencil,  to  make  him  a  sketch  for  a  little 
ornamental  cottage,  —  one  of  those  uninhabitable  little 
homesteads,  which  are  immensely  suggestive  of  all  the  com- 
forts they  would  utterly  fail  to  realize;  and  he  leaned  over 
her  as  she  drew,  and  his  arm  was  on  the  back  of  her  chair, 
and  his  face  so  close  at  times  that  it  almost  touched  the 
braids  of  the  silky  hair  beside  him. 

"You  must  make  a  porch  there,  Dolly;  it  would  be  so 
nice  to  sit  there  with  that  noble  view  down  the  glen  at  one's 
feet,  and  three  distinct  reaches  of  the  Nore  visible." 

"Yes,  I'll  make  a  pOrch;  I'll  even  make  you  yourself 
lounging  in  it.     See,  it  shall  be  perfect  bliss !  " 


560  TONY  BUTLER. 

^'Wbat  does  that  mean?" 

*'That  means  smoke,  sir;  you  are  enjoying  the  heavenly 
luxury  of  tobacco,  not  the  less  intensely  that  it  obscures  the 
view." 

"No,  Dolly,  I'll  not  have  that.  If  you  put  me  there, 
don't  have  me  smoking ;  make  me  sitting  beside  you  as  we 
are  now, — you  drawing,   and  I  looking  over  you." 

"  But  I  want  to  be  a  prophet  as  well  as  a  painter,  Tony. 
I  desire  to  predict  something  that  will  be  sure  to  happen,  if 
you  should  ever  build  this  cottage." 

"  I  swear  I  will,  —  I  'm  resolved  on  it." 

"  Well,  then,  so  sure  as  you  do,  and  so  sure  as  you  sit  in 
that  little  honeysuckle-covered  porch,  you  '11  smoke." 

"And  why  not  do  as  I  say?  Why  not  make  you 
sketching  —  " 

"  Because  I  shall  not  be  sketching;  because,  by  the  time 
your  cottage  is  finished,  I  shall  probably  be  sketching  a 
Maori  chief,  or  a  war-party  bivouacking  on  the  Raki-Raki." 

Tony  drew  away  his  arm  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  a 
sense  almost  of  faintish  sickness  creeping  over  him. 

"Here  are  the  dogs  too,"  continued  she.  "Here  is 
Lance  with  his  great  majestic  face,  and  here  Gertrude  with 
her  fine  pointed  nose  and  piercing  eyes,  and  here's  little 
Spicer  as  saucy  and  pert  as  I  can  make  him  without  color ; 
for  one  ought  to  have  a  little  carmine  for  the  corner  of  his 
eye,  and  a  slight  tinge  to  accent  the  tip  of  his  nose.  Shall  I 
add  all  your  '  emblems,'  as  they  call  them,  and  put  in  the 
fishing-rods  against  the  wall,  and  the  landing-net,  and  the 
guns  and  pouches?" 

She  went  on  sketching  with  inconceivable  rapidity,  the 
drawing  keeping  pace  almost  with  her  words. 

But  Tony  no  longer  took  the  interest  he  had  done  before 
in  the  picture,  but  seemed  lost  in  some  deep  and  difficult 
reflection. 

"  Shall  we  have  a  bridge  —  a  mere  plank  will  do  —  over 
the  river  here,  Tony?  and  then  this  zigzag  pathway  will 
be  a  short  way  up  to  the  cottage." 

He  never  heard  her  words,  but  arose  and  left  the  room. 
He  passed  out  into  the  little  garden  in  front  of  the  house, 
and,  leaning  on  the  gate>  looked  out  into  the  dark  still  night. 


THE  END.  561 

Poor  Tony !  impenetrable  as  that  darkness  was,  it  was  not 
more  difficult  to  peer  through  than  the  thick  mist  that 
gathered  around  his  thoughts. 

'*  Is  that  Tony?"  cried  his  mother  from  the  doorway. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  moodily,  for  he  wanted  to  be  left  to  his 
own  thoughts. 

"  Come  here,  Tony,  and  see  what  a  fine  manly  letter  your 
friend  Mr.  M'Gruder  writes  in  answer  to  mine." 

Tony  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant,  and  almost  tore  the 
letter  in  his  eagerness  to  read  it.  It  was  very  brief,  but 
well  deserved  all  she  had  said  of  it.  With  a  delicacy  which 
perhaps  might  scarcely  have  been  looked  for  in  a  man  so 
educated  and  brought  up,  he  seemed  to  appreciate  the  exist- 
ence of  a  secret  he  had  no  right  to  question ;  and  bitterly  as 
the  resolve  cost  him,  he  declared  that  he  had  no  longer  a 
claim  on  Dolly's  affection. 

"I  scarcely  understand  him,  mother;  do  you?"  asked 
Tony. 

"It's  not  very  hard  to  understand,  Tony,"  said  she, 
gravely.  "  Mr.  M'Gruder  sees  that  Dolly  Stewart  could 
not  have  given  him  her  love  and  affection  as  a  man's  wife 
ought  to  give,  and  he  would  be  ashamed  to  take  her  without 
it." 

"But  why  couldn't  she?  Sam  seems  to  have  a  sort  of 
suspicion  as  to  the  reason,  and  I  cannot  guess  it." 

"If  he  does  suspect,  he  has  the  nice  feeling  of  a  man  of 
honor,  and  sees  that  it  is  not  for  one  placed  as  he  is  to 
question  it." 

"If  any  man  were  to  say  to  me,  '  Read  that  letter,  and 
tell  me  what  does  it  infer,'  I  'd  say  the  writer  thought  that 
the  girl  he  wanted  to  marry  liked  some  else." 

"Well,  there's  one  point  placed  beyond  an  inference, 
Tony;  the  engagement  is  ended,   and  she  is  free." 

"  I  suppose  she  is  very  happy  at  it." 

"Poor  Dolly  has  little  heart  for  happiness  just  now.  It 
was  a  little  before  dinner  a  note  came  from  the  doctor  to  say 
that  all  the  friends  he  had  consulted  advised  him  to  go  out, 
and  were  ready  and  willing  to  assist  him  in  every  way  to 
make  the  journey.  As  January  is  the  stormy  month  in  these 
seas,  they  all  recommended  his  sailing  as  soon  as  he  possibly 

36 


562  TONY  BUTLER. 

could  ;  and  the  poor  man  says  very  feelingly,  '  To-morrow, 
mayhap,  will  be  my  farewell  sermon  to  those  who  have  sat 
under  me  eight-aud-forty  years.' " 

''  Why  did  you  not  make  some  proposal  like  what  I  spoke 
of,  mother?"  asked  he,  almost  peevishly. 

"  I  tried  to  do  it,  Tony,  but  he  would  n't  hear  of  it.  He 
has  a  pride  of  his  own  that  is  very  dangerous  to  wound,  and 
he  stopped  me  at  once,  saying,  '  I  hope  I  mistake  your 
meaning ;  but  lest  I  should  not,  say  no  more  of  this  for  the 
sake  of  our  old  friendship.'" 

'^I  call  such  pride  downright  want  of  feeling.  It  is 
neither  more  nor  less  than  consummate  selfishness." 

"Don't  tell  him  so,  Tony,  or  maybe  you  'd  fare  worse  in 
the  argument.     He  has  a  wise,  deep  head,  the  doctor." 

"  I  wish  he  had  a  little  heart  with  it,"  said  Tony,  sulkily, 
and  turned  again  into  the  garden. 

Twice  did  Jeanie  summon  him  to  tea,  but  he  paid  no 
attention  to  the  call;  so  engrossed,  indeed,  was  he  by  his 
thoughts,  that  he  even  forgot  to  smoke,  and  not  impossibly 
the  want  of  his  accustomed  weed  added  to  his  other 
embarrassments. 

''  Miss  Dolly  's  for  ganging  hame,  Master  Tony,"  said  the 
maid  at  last,  "  and  the  mistress  wants  you  to  go  wi'  her." 

As  Tony  entered  the  hall,  Dolly  was  preparing  for  the 
road.  Coquetry  was  certainly  the  least  of  her  accomplish- 
ments, and  yet  there  was  something  that  almost  verged  on 
it  in  the  hood  she  wore,  instead  of  a  bonnet,  lined  with 
some  plushy  material  of  a  rich  cherry  color,  and  forming  a 
frame  around  her  face  that  set  off  all  her  features  to  the 
greatest  advantage.  Never  did  her  eyes  look  bluer  or 
deeper,  —  never  did  the  gentle  beauty  of  her  face  light  up 
with  more  of  brilliancy.  Tony  never  knew  with  what  rap- 
ture he  was  gazing  on  her  till  he  saw  that  she  was  blushing 
under  his  fixed  stare. 

The  leave-taking  between  Mrs.  Butler  and  Dolly  was  more 
than  usually  affectionate  ;  and  even  after  they  had  separated, 
the  old  lady  called  her  back  and  kissed  her  again. 

''  I  don't  know  how  mother  will  bear  up  after  you  leave 
her,"  muttered  Tony,  as  he  walked  along  at  Dolly's  side ; 
"she  is  fonder  of  you  than  ever." 


THE  END.  563 

Dolly  murmured  something,  but  inaudibly. 

*'Fur  uiy  owu  part,"  continued  Tony,  "I  can't  believe 
this  step  necessary  at  all.  It  would  be  an  ineffable  disgrace 
to  the  whole  neighborhood  to  let  one  we  love  and  revere  as 
we  do  him,  go  away  in  his  old  age,  one  may  say,  to  seek  his 
fortune.  He  belongs  to  us,  and  we  to  him.  We  have  been 
linked  together  for  years,  and  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of 
our  separating." 

This  was  a  very  long  speech  for  Tony,  and  he  felt  almost 
fatigued  when  it  was  finished ;  but  Dolly  was  silent,  and 
there  was  no  means  by  which  he  could  guess  the  effect  it 
had  produced  upon  her. 

"As  to  my  mother,"  continued  he,  "she'd  not  care  to 
live  here  any  longer,  —  1  know  it.  I  don't  speak  of  myself, 
because  it 's  the  habit  to  think  I  don't  care  for  any  one  or 
anything, — that's  the  estimate  people  form  of  mc^  and  I 
must  bear  it  as  I  can." 

"  It 's  less  than  just,  Tony,"  said  Dolly,  gravely. 

"  Oh,  if  I  am  to  ask  for  justice,  Dolly,  I  shall  get  the 
worst  of  it,"  said  he,  laughing,  but  not  merrily. 

For  a  while  they  walked  on  without  a  word  on  either  side. 

"  What  a  calm  night!  "  said  Dolly.  "  and  how  large  the 
stars  look !  They  tell  me  that  in  southern  latitudes  they 
seem  immense." 

*'  You  are  not  sorry  to  leave  this,  Dolly?"  murmured  he, 
gloomily ;   "  are  you?  " 

A  very  faint  sigh  was  all  her  answer. 

"•  I  'm  sure  no  one  could  blame  you,"  he  continued. 
"  There  is  not  much  to  attach  any  one  to  the  place,  except, 
perhaps,  a  half-savage  like  myself,  who  finds  its  ruggedness 
congenial." 

"But  you  will  scarcely  remain  here,  now,  Tony;  you'll 
be  more  likely  to  settle  at  Butler  Hall,  won't  you  ? " 

"  Wherever  I  settle  it  sha'n't  be  here,  after  you  have  left 
it,"  said  he,  with  energy. 

"  Sir  Arthur  Lyle  and  his  family  are  all  coming  back  in  a 
few  days,  I  hear." 

"So  they  may;  it  matters  little  to  me,  Dolly.  Shall  I 
tell  3^ou  a  secret?  Take  m}^  arm,  Dolly,  — the  path  is  rough 
here,  —  you  may  as  well  lean  on  me.     We  are  not  likely  to 


564  TONY  BUTLER. 

have  many  more  walks  together.  Oh  dear !  if  you  were  as 
sorry  as  I  am,  what  a  sad  stroll  this  would  be !  " 

'^  What's  your  secret,  Tony?  "  asked  she,  in  a  faint  voice. 

"Ah!  my  secret,  my  secret,"  said  he,  ponderingly :  "I 
don't  know  why  I  called  it  a  secret,  —  but  here  is  what  I 
meant.  You  remember,  Dolly,  how  I  used  to  live  up  there 
at  the  Abbey  formerly.  It  was  just  like  my  home.  I 
ordered  all  the  people  about  just  as  if  they  had  been  my 
own  servants,  —  and,  indeed,  they  minded  my  orders  more 
than  their  master's.  The  habit  grew  so  strong  upon  me, 
of  being  obej^ed  and  followed,  that  I  suppose  I  must  have 
forgot  my  own  real  condition  I  take  it  I  must  have  lost 
sight  of  who  and  what  I  actually  was,  till  one  of  the  sous  — 
a  young  fellow  in  the  service  in  India  —  came  back  and 
contrived  to  let  me  make  the  discovery,  that,  though  I  never 
knew  it,  I  was  really  living  the  life  of  a  dependant.  I  '11 
not  tell  you  how  this  stung  me,  but  it  did  sting  me  —  all  the 
more  that  I  believed,  I  fancied,  myself  —  don't  laugh  at 
me  —  but  I  reall}^  imagined  I  was  in  love  with  one  of  the 
girls  —  Alice.      She  was  Alice  Trafford  then." 

"  I  had  heard  of  that,"  said  Dolly,  in  a  faint  voice. 

"Well,  she  too  undeceived  me  —  not  exactly  as  unfeel- 
ingly nor  as  offensively  as  her  brother,  but  just  as  explicitly 
—  you  know  what  I  mean?" 

"No;  tell  me  more  clearly,"  said  she,  eagerly. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you.  It 's  a  long  story,  —  that 
is  to  say,  I  was  a  long  while  under  a  delusion,  and  she  was  a 
long  while  indulging  it.  Fine  ladies,  I'm  told,  do  this  sort 
of  thing  when  they  take  a  caprice  into  their  heads  to  civilize 
young  barbarians  of  m}^  stamp." 

"  That's  not  the  generous  way  to  look  at  it,  Tony." 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  generous,  —  the  adage  says  one  ought 
to  begin  by  being  just.  Skeffy  —  you  know  w^hom  I  mean, 
Skeff  Darner  —  saw  it  clearly  enough  —  he  warned  me  about 
it.  And  what  a  clever  fellow  he  is !  Would  you  believe  it, 
Dolly?  he  actually  knew  all  the  time  that  I  was  not  really  in 
love  when  I  thought  I  was.  He  knew  that  it  was  a  some- 
thing made  up  of  romance  and  ambition  and  boyish  vanity, 
and  that  my  heart,  my  real  heart,  was  never  in  it." 

Dolly  shook  her  head,  but  whether  in  dissent  or  in  sorrow 
it  was  not  easy  to  say. 


^     THE  END.  565 

*'  Shall  I  tell  you  more?  "  cried  Tony,  as  he  drew  her  arm 
closer  to  him,  aud  took  her  hand  in  his  ;  "  shall  I  tell  you 
more,  Dolly?  Skeff  read  me  as  I  could  not  read  myself. 
He  said  to  me,  '  Tony,  this  is  no  case  of  love,  it  is  the  flat- 
tered vanity  of  a  very  young  fellow  to  be  distinguished  not 
alone  by  the  prettiest,  but  the  most  petted  woman  of  society. 
Fo^^,'  said  he,  '  are  receiving  all  the  homage  paid  to  her  at 
second-hand.*  But  more  than  all  this,  Dolly ;  he  not  merely 
saw  that  I  was  not  in  love  with  Alice  Trafford,  but  he  saw 
with  whom  my  heart  was  bound  up,  for  many  and  many  a 
year." 

"  Her  sister,  her  sister  Bella,"  whispered  Dolly. 

"No,  but  with  yourself,  my  own  own  Dolly,"  cried  he; 
and  turning,  and  before  she  could  prevent  it,  he  clasped  her 
in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  passionately. 

"Oh,  Tony!"  said  she,  sobbing,  "you  that  I  trusted, 
you  that  I  confided  in,  to  treat  me  thus." 

"It  is  that  my  heart  is  bursting,  Dolly,  with  this  long 
pent-up  love,  for  I  now  know  I  have  loved  you  all  my  life 
long  Don't  be  angry  with  me,  my  darling  Dolly ;  I  'd 
rather  die  at  your  feet  than  hear  an  angry  word  from  you. 
Tell  me  if  you  can  care  for  me ;  oh,  tell  me,  if  I  strive  to  be 
all  you  could  like  and  love,  that  you  will  not  refuse  to  be  my 
own." 

She  tried  to  disengage  herself  from  his  arm  ;  she  trembled, 
heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  fell  with  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 

"  And  you  are  my  own,"  said  he,  again  kissing  her;  "  and 
now  the  wide  world  has  not  so  happy  a  heart  as  mine." 

Of  those  characters  of  my  story  who  met  happiness,  it  is 
as  well  to  say  no  more.  A  more  cunning  craftsman  than 
myself  has  told  us  that  the  less  we  track  human  life  the 
more  cheerily  we  shall  speak  of  it.  Let  us  presume,  and  it 
is  no  unfair  presumption,  that,  as  Tony's  life  was  sur- 
rounded with  a  liberal  share  of  those  gifts  which  make  exist- 
ence pleasurable,  he  was  neither  ungrateful  nor  unmindful  of 
them.  Of  Dolly  I  hope  there  need  be  no  doubt.  "  The 
guid  dochter  is  the  best  warrant  for  the  guid  wife : "  so  said 
her  father,   and  he  said  truly. 

In  the  diary  of  a  Spanish  guerilla  chief,  there  is  mention 


566  TONY  BUTLER. 

of  a  ''  nobile  Iiiglese,"  who  met  him  at  Malta,  to  confer  over 
the  possibility  of  a  landing  in  Calabria,  and  the  chances  of  a 
successful  rising  there.  The  Spaniard  speaks  of  this  man  as 
a  person  of  rank,  education,  and  talents,  high  in  the  confi- 
dence of  the  Court,  and  evidently  warmly  interested  in  the 
cause.  He  w^as  taken  prisoner  by  the  Piedmontese  troops 
on  the  third  day  after  they  landed,  and,  though  repeatedly 
offered  life  under  conditions  it  would  have  been  no  dishonor 
to  accept,  was  tried  by  court-martial,   and  shot. 

There  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  "  nobile  lugiese  "  was 
Maitland. 

From  the  window  where  I  write,  I  can  see  the  promenade 
on  the  Pincian  Hill ;  and  if  my  eyes  do  not  deceive  me,  I  can 
perceive  that  at  times  the  groups  are  broken,  and  the 
loungers  fall  back,  to  permit  some  one  to  pass.  I  have 
called  the  waiter  to  explain  the  curious  circumstance,  and 
asked  if  it  be  royalty  that  is  so  deferentially  acknowledged. 
He  smiles,  and  says:  ^'No.  It  is  the  major  domo  of  the 
palace  exacts  the  respect  you  see.  He  can  do  what  he  likes 
at  Rome.  Antonelli  himself  is  not  greater  than  the  Count 
M'Caskey." 

As  some^  unlettered  guide  leads  the  traveller  to  the  verge 
of  a  cliff,  from  which  the  glorious  landscape  beneath  is  visible, 
and  winding  river  and  embowered  homestead,  and  swelling 
plain  and  far-off  mountain,  are  all  spread  out  beneath  for  the 
eye  to  revel  over,  so  do  I  place  you,  my  valued  reader,  on 
that  spot  from  which  the  future  can  be  seen,  and  modestly 
retire  that  you  may  gaze  in  peace,  weaving  your  own  fancies 
at  will,  and  investing  the  scene  before  you  with  such  images 
and  such  interests  as  best  befit  it. 

M]j  part  is  done  :  if  I  have  suggested  something  for  yours^ 
it  will  not  be  all  in  vain  that  I  have  written  ''  Tony  Butler.'' 


THE  END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


MAY  15 


«»rT* 


^f\ 


LD  21-100m-9,'47(A5702sl6)476 


193079      > 


